


Scavenger Hunt Of Love

by dean_and_cas_at_the_sea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Epistolary, Fluff, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Online Dating, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Road Trips, Smart Dean Winchester, Strangers to Lovers, Writer Castiel (Supernatural), partly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 106,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dean_and_cas_at_the_sea/pseuds/dean_and_cas_at_the_sea
Summary: Castiel Novak, Professor of the Classics and part-time writer, discovers a peculiar note in a hidden book and is intrigued by the person’s message. After a scavenger hunt including more messages he decides to write the mysterious man on a platform. Dean Winchester, a mechanic and college dropout, is baffled somebody actually found his message. They start writing each other while also crashing into each other in real life – chaos and feelings ensue.HEY, DORK! Yes, I mean you, reading this. I dunno, I’m probably talking to a 60-year-old elderly man or so although I really, really hope you’re younger – in your thirties maybe? In that case: Yay! Still. I might already be dead because there’s no frigging way anyone will ever find this during this exhausting modern-tech-period, let alone read about my weird-ass rambling.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 249
Kudos: 217





	1. Hidden letters in the library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an idea I’ve had for ages, and it just needed to be written down. Last summer I finally had the time to start this fic. I’ve had so much fun writing this. :) I’m a sucker for the getting to know each other over profound texts, the yearning... Well, you get the idea. ;) 
> 
> The fic is not solely epistolary form, we get to see Dean and Castiel in their daily lives. And they will meet there, although they don’t recognize each other. :D
> 
> The letters and mails will be an essential part of the fic though.
> 
> Well, I just wanted to put the first chapter out there. I hope there are people who are interested in this – since this motivates and encourages me A LOT. :) 
> 
> I also included a small easter egg, couldn’t help it :D Enjoy!

**Castiel**

" _I’m a barbie girl in a barbie world_...“ Castiel woke up so abruptly that he almost fell out of bed. Who had changed his alarm tone again? Gabriel, presumably. Out of narrowed eyes Castiel glanced at the clock. 6 a.m. At this ungodly early hour, he had been rung out of bed - even though he had the day off. Now he was wide awake, which was why he might as well use the day productively. He was freezing cold, and he pulled the covers up to the tip of his nose, relishing the last moment of perfect silence.

He had to do something meaningful. His mind was bubbling over, maybe it would do him good to do some research for his essay, which he had also been putting off for too long. Sighing, Castiel showered and got dressed, threw on his trench coat, for which Balthazar always had only a mocking smile, while his esteemed brother loved to give him monologues about his lack of fashion sense at every single encounter.

As soon as Castiel lectured him that he, as a "bookworm“ and loner, wasn’t interested in fashion trends anyway, Gabriel really caught fire. Then it was back to his non-existent love life, his lack of social skills - and Castiel should really get into the fray and "hook up with a hot guy“. At such comments, Castiel mostly just rolled his eyes, trying (in vain) to distract Gabriel from the topic.

He spent the whole day in one of the faculty libraries, poring over book after book in the most remote and really not at all frequented areas of the Classics Department. There, he once more reflected on his choice of profession and the circumstances. His métier was not exactly among the most popular specializations, he had been aware of that even then. Nevertheless, he had later decided to write his PhD thesis on the relationship between Aeneas and Dido in Virgil’s Aeneid.

He had focused his dissertation primarily on the conflict between his duty and his forbidden love for Dido, drawing on various theories. His thesis had been provocative, but had received great approval in academic circles, which is why he had finally been offered a position as Professor of the Classics. It was his absolute dream job, even if he could not make anyone understand that. In his spare time, he learned other, much older languages, some unknown, some long extinct - a hobby he shared with no one.

For his seminar on Ovid, he was rereading the Metamorphoses, which existed in different variations and always fascinated him. They would also make an excursion to Aesop’s Fables, a real classic. In the library’s database he found that there must still be a very old edition of the Metamorphoses. He rose from his seat, combed the shelves until he found what he was looking for. The book was hidden, he almost didn’t see it, as it was stuck in the far corner of the shelf, somewhat dusty and inconspicuous. Surely no one else had strayed here.

He briefly flipped through the book, enjoying the familiar smell of parchment, the feel of the old pages under his fingers. Books definitely could not be replaced by technical devices. Then he paused, puzzled. Someone had slipped a note into the book. Castiel shook his head, unable to believe that someone had left his notes behind. At least the person hadn’t scribbled in the book.

Still shaking his head and with a slight smile on his lips, Castiel went back to his seat. He read in the Metamorphoses for a while, but something was nagging at him. Curiosity, it was curiosity, he quickly realized. He wanted to know the contents, which is why he unfolded the piece of paper. It was a sheet from some kind of journal, hastily torn out, missing the upper left corner.

Diagonally in the left corner was the simple phrase " _ **More ramblings. Metamorphoses. Book X, Orpheus and Eurydice (Or rather: How to get fucking depressed about epic love)**_ “

At this accurate description, Castiel laughed out loud, which fortunately didn’t bother anyone because he was completely alone. Whoever had written the note had a sense of humor. Castiel read the rest of the note, which was much longer than he had anticipated.

*******

" _Guy loved his wife so much he would go to the most intimidating place in existence to find the love of his life. With no actual clue on if they’d make it out alive of this scary, shady world. Crazy weirdo, but I can dig where he’s coming from. Family is everything. Where’s the point of the story though?_

_Yeah, yeah, love at first sight; the moral; beautiful symbolism; gods were in his favor due to his talent and pure emotions; staying faithful til the end. Blabla. Yes, good stuff. Was intrigued. But damn, that ending? At first, they reunite, and then he’s alone again. Shattered. And she’s fucking left behind, still in that shady world. So damn tragic. Seriously, spare me with that bullshit._

_I liked the love at first sight bit, not being able to keep their eyes off each other since their first encounter, the fact art is so magical it overcomes every boundary, very powerful message, but I figured this would be epic love with the happily ever after. I mean, love should be- I dunno. Consuming and fulfilling, I s’pose. Ain’t supposed to be so tragic, otherwise one might as well stay alone in the first place. Well, look who’s talking. Duh. Anyway. Gotta reread. Some day. Not enough tears left right now._

_Liked the Metamorphoses way better than the art of love stuff. Guy shouldn’t have written so ironically about love in his stupid didactic poem. Seriously? Techniques for love? Um, not to be the mood killer here, but if that shit worked, everyone would be thrilled and full of serotonin all day. No killings, no wars. No hurt. No pressure or dumb responsibilities nobody fucking explains. World peace, orgies all day. Not that I prefer the latter, I’m for monogamy all the way through._

_So: This ars amatoria sounds too good to be true. Course, I might be a bit prejudiced and bitter, nothing new on that front. Um, back to the point. Love poems were top-notch, though. Bit detailed, but at least most of 'em were kinda entertaining. I mean, why not? Oh, by the way._

_**HEY, DORK!** Yes, I mean you, reading this. I dunno, I’m probably talking to a 60-year-old elderly man or so although I really, really hope you’re younger – in your thirties maybe? In that case: Yay! Still. I might already be dead because there’s no frigging way anyone will ever find this during this exhausting modern-tech-period, let alone read about my weird-ass rambling._

_Maybe there aren’t even books anymore in the future, and this is one of the last remaining books in a sci-fi dystopia. Forgotten culture. Some people trying to preserve it while forming a rebellion. Holy crap, now I kinda wish I would still be around for that shit. Anyway, hiya, glad you found this. Still there? Fantastic. Imagine my smoky, soothing voice for the next part_.“

*******

Now, Castiel’s breathing stopped. This person had left the note on purpose? Why would she or from the voice Castiel had in mind it might be in fact a "he“ do that? This was the most intriguing thing he had read in a long time, therefore he continued with the unexpected reading.

" _When you are actually in this part of the library right now, you must be a geek. In my mind, you’re kinda hot. Dreamy. Gorgeous eyes, bed hair, your deep voice a damn turn on, maybe you even got a nice ass as the jackpot, I’m not too fixated on looks, though. Just wanted to have something for my frigging awesome imagination while writing this at – gimme a sec – 3 a.m. on a Friday. Sounds pathetic? NO! I love this place, thank you very much._

_If you’re smart, that makes you hot anyway, in my opinion. Not even sorry for my shitty flirting and innuendos here, it’s better for resting or releasing tension if you get my hint. Have I properly introduced my imaginative and quite vividly working mind? No? Well, now you are thinking about the things going on in there, huh? Point made and proofed. A+ argumentation skills for the resume._

_Are ya up for a challenge? Wanna check out something mind-blowing? Got to row 9, shelf 18. The signature number is 13 XX LAZ 04.01. You can thank me later. Might wanna send a check, though that implies I gotta tell you my info. Naah. I’m more of the mysterious kind of guy (also adorable, in case you wondered), let’s keep it this way for now_.“

This man, who seemed to enjoy swearing a lot, captivated Castiel immensely. He was honest, not at a loss for words, and had to be incredibly smart. He seemed to know the library very well, memorized the positions of books because Castiel was sure that the author of this wonderful note had known the position by heart. Good memory, analytical thinking - Castiel was intrigued. He had to learn more, and so he continued to pursue this scavenger hunt.

The book stood exactly at the instructed position. Nondescript, very thin, yellowed, the paint already peeling at the edges. It was obviously written in Latin, without any annotations or translations. Castiel had never heard of the author, but he was itching to try. Concentrating, he read a few pages, feeling lucky that he knew Latin so well, for the author’s language was complex, though the style was unique and wonderful.

After short essayistic texts came the works to which the mysterious guy had alluded. Poems. Castiel read a poem, his mouth hanging open. Remarkable use of the elegiac couplet. He read the next poem, smiling broadly. By the third poem he was crying because the lyrical I was painting his yearning so pointedly with words, the metaphors were otherworldly.

Castiel sank to the floor and leaned against the wall, sobbing, because he had not read anything so extraordinary and heart-wrenchingly beautiful for a long time. Only after a few minutes of numbness and a wave of emotion did he discover that another folded note had been tucked into this exact spot, next to this exact poem.

" _Gotcha. ;) Terrific writing, huh? Could wrap myself in the imagery. Have written some lines down, two of them hang over my bed. Yeah, yeah, it’s an exception. Don’t judge me. I mean, I hate chick flick moments but look at 'em. Made me sob for, I dunno, 10 minutes (maybe 30-ish?). Kinda hoping you’re still intrigued, Mr. elderly guy._ “

Castiel laughed quietly because it was so amusing to him that this man suspected him to be an old professor, almost emeritus, when he actually hoped for a younger person and had this rather vivid image in mind. He snorted, and then he laughed again, and didn’t know where all this laughing came from all of a sudden. Then, he read the last part of the note.

" _There is no doubt that a person who is called generous and open-handed has duty in mind, not gain. So likewise justice looks for no prize and no price; it is sought for itself, and is at once the cause and meaning of all the virtues._ ”

This was from Cicero’s De re publica, of course. Quickly, Castiel checked the database for the editions, and after that searched for almost half an hour for the right edition. Again, there was a folded paper in the book, with insightful comments on the work, philosophical questions. Castiel was inclined to reflect on these matters, but he also wanted to find more notes. He couldn’t stop this strange mission anymore.

Many of the following notes were rather short, mostly they seemed to be spontaneous thoughts while reading such as

" _You’ve gotta be kidding me. Lamest lameness in the frigging history of lame storytelling. Uninspired, nothing new. Almost 90 percent copied from the classics. Except those people were actually brilliant. Yawn. Almost fell of the chair sleeping. Next._ “ and more hints as to the next work.

And so Castiel went on, running through the library, laughing about comments like

" _Okay, give me the sword and the hot knight, the squeamish Lady can rot in the river for all I care. First third was exhausting, got better. Reading before going to sleep not recommended. Gross, gross, gross._ “

or:

" _Never gonna understand those morals in the fables. Like em, sure. But why the tone? Ain’t all perfect themselves those Aesop and Phaedrus guys. Pretty sure they didn’t shit wiseness back in their days. Well, maybe admonishing one-liners were their kink, made them wild animals in bed. Who am I to judge?_ “ Castiel fell into a fit of laughter after reading this one.

Some notes were more to the point, short reactions like, " _Well, fuck me up. Not what I expected. They just iced him?! Gimme a break!!! Gonna need a beer now._ “

Another one spoke of the literary quality: " _Nope. Nope. Nope. Tried, but hate this, it’s whiny and fucking repetitive. Zero skills in word choice. Even I could do better than that._ “

Overall, Castiel read more than twenty notes, and got more intrigued with the author of those little texts. Meanwhile, the night had progressed, and when he looked at the clock the next time it was 5 a.m. He was baffled.

He had spent the whole night on this scavenger hunt, and it had been the most fascinating and fun experience he had in years. He had found another note, a bit longer again. It had been hidden in a book which he had never heard of in his entire life, furthermore, it was stored in a room where nobody would ever dare to go into since it was so stuffed and contained all kinds of old items and books.

*******

" _Okaaay, wow. You ARE a weird person. Do you have too much time on your hands or did you stumble on this randomly? Scratch that, there’s no way you would find this note without the other ones. So, I was right about the dork thing. I am awesome, period. Well, I shouldn’t be too judgmental regarding you, I guess. I mean, I’m the one who spent many, many hours on this (Believe me, you don’t wanna know the amount of time...)._

 _So. It’s January 24, my birthday. Yay. And I’m fucking lonely tonight because I fled my own party. Couldn’t stand the superficial talking and the sympathetic looks from my friends and family. Ugh. Like I said, I felt lonely, really wished for a profound something. Why the hell are people always after my looks? Anyway, I’d like to remain anonymous, but I would like to get to hear from the person who put effort into reading and solving the notes. Here’s my Geekatism contact. ;) RambleOnIm67.at.geekatism.com. On an end note, but mostly to remind myself: Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit*._ “

*******

Now this guy was quoting Virgil’s Aeneid to him, and maybe that was some kind of strange coincidence, but it also could be interpreted as a sign. Castiel shook his head, knew he had to go home to finally sleep. He quickly packed up his things, carefully tucked all the notes inside his briefcase, and headed home.

Armed with fresh clothes and an extra blanket, he went to bed. He pulled the blanket up to his nose and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible in his bedroom. Every time he was about to fall asleep, something would startle him again. It was unbearable!

Why everything just on this day? At some point, he reluctantly realized that there was no point in wasting any more time unnecessarily. Castiel glanced at the clock. Almost 8 a.m.

He couldn’t help thinking about the strange notes that had been left in the books. Whoever had been up to his mischief here was very well-read. No one else would know where to look for the works, let alone select them so specifically.

Again and again Castiel read through all the notes, feeling his heartbeat quicken. His fingers stroked the contact, as if it might help them find out more about the other. Finally, he groaned in frustration, pulled out his old laptop and opened the browser.

He typed in "Geekatism", continuing to grin at the name, and read the introduction, somewhat irritated.

" _Your community for chatting about your interests, sharing your ideas, meeting new people and maybe even finding love. We were called the tinder for geeks by certain people. ;) Have fun!_ “

He had not expected this development; rather, he had expected to encounter a perhaps more casual online community that approached topics like Latin studies in a fresher way. Sighing, Castiel nevertheless opened the registration form and set about entering the necessary information. Why exactly did these providers want to know so much about his movie preferences, his favorite tropes (presumably a certain place?), preferred DnD modules, his house and ships?

Since Castiel’s knowledge in pop culture and the references was very limited (Gabriel always tried to enlarge it, but had very, very peculiar likings), he didn’t know what was expected of him. Most of those things sounded like another foreign language to him.

Castiel was confused, so he filled in bits of information everywhere, leaving questions or comments where he was at a loss. He wouldn’t use this profile anyway, just wanted to know if the other person was still registered there. Since he was named after an angel, he used the nickname "AngelMuses“ without further ado.

As a profile picture Castiel used a photo Gabriel had taken of him a while back. One could see his hair and his profile, but only part of it. He was looking at the sky. He liked this picture a lot, and concerning recognition it should be fine. Finally, he got a confirmation email, logged in and searched for the user "RambleOnIm67“.

Quickly, the search spit out the profile, and Castiel’s heart beat unnaturally fast. He didn’t read the profile, knowing much, and yet too little about the other person.

However, he took a closer look at the profile photo. Pictured was a man with brown hair who could only be seen from behind. Castiel noticed that this man had a very attractive back with muscles showing through the T-shirt, broad shoulders and upper arms that gave him goosebumps. He was probably sitting on the hood of a car because the horizon and, very prominently, a road were visible in the background.

Castiel’s body was doing all sorts of things he wouldn’t have expected at this late, or rather early, hour. Or actually not at all. Was this really the man who had left the messages? Now he skimmed the profile after all, found a few familiar quotes, and yes, if he was honest with himself, he was just looking for a reason to drag out the next thing.

He sighed, sighed again, clicked his tongue in annoyance, and began to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"Perhaps even these things will be good to remember one day.“
> 
> The Ancient literature stuff is mostly for getting the story in motion although there will be more references to pop culture etc in the future. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :) Next chapter will be online tomorrow!


	2. Studying profiles can be a thrill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > "Do you want to read the profile?“ he asked jokingly, but Charlie took him by his word and grabbed his phone without hesitation. 
>> 
>> Charlie furrowed her forehead while reading, and she laughed. Then, she laughed again, shaking her head. Okay, what the hell was so funny about a fucking online profile? After two minutes, Charlie nodded at him, leaning towards him with a conspiratorial expression.
>> 
>> "I think you should consider marrying him.“ Dean was dumbstruck. "Just saying.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the second chapter! :) 
> 
> I am so happy there are some people who already like the idea for this fic. :)
> 
> In this introductory chapter we'll get to know Dean. Enjoy! :)

**Dean**

Maybe it was fate. Dean was cursed. Yes, in his estimation, by now there was more and more evidence that he was going to die an old maid. Was there a male term for that? Would be an interesting idea for a new research project. Eventually, he would become wrinkled and fragile, eventually not being able to get a boner anymore, not that anyone would care at that point. 

His integration into social life would be practically non-existent. Lonely and silent like a hermit, forgotten and abandoned in the middle of nowhere, until he would go mad with loneliness. 

Finally, his life would rush past him like a fast train which he could only wave at helplessly in a final act of desperation. Another possibility would be him in about 10 to 20 years - hanging fearfully on a cliff - with no chance of rescue. These possibilities were drastic views of his future, which truly had not yet been determined. However, at the heart of it all was really what he was afraid of. Therefore, his brain continued to work diligently, keeping the coals of imagination glowing. 

Sooner or later, it would be time for him to prepare for the certain fall. It would act out like this: Dean takes a deep breath, tries to suppress his fear. At the last moment, the sky shines in bright light. As if from nowhere, there he is. His guardian angel, his savior. The angel is blurry, Dean can only guess his contours. His hand easily pulls him up so that he can fall as light as a feather into his arms.

They stare into each other’s eyes, so intensely and passionately that any fire would have fled as quickly as possible at the sight of them. Their faces come closer and closer. The angel's breath is a gentle breeze on his face, his smile melting Dean like butter in the sun.

At a loud "Dean“ he startled out of his thoughts. God, he was such a dramatic bitch sometimes. Maybe he had thought about Thelma and Louise too much lately although that story had ended tragically with them driving off the cliff together. No, he didn’t wanna have a tragic love story. Not that one was knocking at his door anyway. In fact, sometimes Dean really was afraid he was going crazy. 

Not Hannibal, Joker or Shining crazy, but rather, well, him freaking out about his (non-existent) love life like Bridget Jones or the nerds in the beginning of The Big Bang Theory. Honestly, Dean was not sure what the purpose of his inner ramblings was at this point.   
"Dean, would you listen? I said a guy liked your profile!“

Dean raised his eyebrows at Charlie, waiting for her to continue which she didn’t. She just grinned broadly and chuckled afterwards. Great, his best friend teased him again. What else was new? Maybe a massaging tool for maltreated backs which could be easily used while driving? That’d be awesome. Kneading2go. Dean might have to google the technical requirements later. He smirked to himself. 

"Oh my gosh, I cannot believe you!“ Charlie screamed and fucking boxed him in the arm.  
"Ouch! What have I ever done to deserve this?“  
Now Charlie had this smug look on her face which – damn – couldn’t mean anything good. "To me? Ah well, that’s negligible. You’re an amazing friend. To the world? Dude, don’t even get me started. For one thing-“ She raised her thumb dramatically whereupon Dean rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Dean adored Charlie, he really did, but today was one of her I-have-to-call-Dean-out-on-his-bullshit-even-on-the-stuff-he-has-not-considered-yet-trip. He sighed and waved at her with a tiny smile. "Continue.“ Then, he groaned because his back really fucking ached. 

Maybe it had not been the best idea to work on the 65 Chevy Corvette Stingray until 4 a.m. last night. However, she was such a beauty, and he just loved working on her so much. When the owner had brought the car into the workshop, Dean had been baffled. For two minutes he had stroked the long hood and inspected the windsplit. Smiling dreamily at the memory, he threw Charlie a glance who finally decided to interrupt her dramatic pause. 

"For one thing: I’m sorry to be so blatantly honest with you here, but " _you are in more dire need of a blowjob than any white man in history_.“ Jeez. Immediately, Dean buried his face in his hands because he couldn’t believe this woman. Quoting Good Morning Vietnam to him in the middle of a public place where people could hear her? She had zero chill. On top of that, he didn’t want to discuss his sex life with her, not right now. Then he would be in a yearning mood again, and well, when had that ever turned out well?

Meanwhile, Charlie had continued her babbling, apparently. "...are wasting your potential. I mean, being bi gives you two ponds to fish in. With facts like these I sometimes wished I was bi as well. Oh no, no, no. Forget I said that. Beautiful girls can’t be outdone.“ 

She giggled again and put her hand in front of her mouth. Her red hair seemed even redder today, Dean noticed. More fiery. Fitting, of course. Nonetheless, Dean was exhausted, so exhausted he could’ve slept right here in front of this fucking castle Charlie had wanted to visit. It was September 18, and he had finally a day off. Not that Bobby hadn’t told him over and over to take it slow. 

He heard his voice, telling him, "Boy, I love you with all my heart, and you’re doing good work here. Hell, you’re the best mechanic I’ve ever had. But you’re also an idjit. How long do you think you can keep that up? No use to collapse. And I see how crappy you look.“ 

Well, that monologue had lasted for another 5 or 10 minutes. Bobby meant well, he always did, but Dean couldn’t simply stop. He needed the money, Bobby was aware, one of the main reasons he had hired him in the first place. Apparently, he had also given Dean a chance because according to Bobby he was a bright kid and a better man than his dad had ever been. 

Dean had liked the sound of that, it had made him feel warm and not like a failure for once. The college dropout, wasting his potential, the guy who couldn’t find a relationship at 29 et cetera. Unfortunately, Bobby’s first point didn’t exactly benefit him anymore these days. It was still true although Dean always had a hard time convincing himself of that. Or rather: Liberating himself from the pressure his had put on him all those years. Good thing he didn’t live here. Set another reason to get angry, considering- Dean growled since there was no way he would think about that now. He couldn’t. 

Hence, Dean cleared his throat, giving Charlie his apologetic look, nudging her in the side.

"I’m sorry, Dory. I suck today.“ He scratched the back of his neck and stretched his legs. The castle did have its charm although they had just been staring at it from their bench so far. "It’s just- so hard, ya know. I suppose you gotta visit me in the hospital soon. Again. Crap, I’m no fun today.“ He cursed under his breath, kicking a few pebbles away. He hated these days when he couldn’t shut his mind off.  
  
Now Charlie, the wonderful human being she was, smiled at him - and yeah, he could imagine why girls would find her cute - and then she hugged him.

"I know, Marlin,“ she mumbled into his ear. They had given each other the Finding Nemo nicknames with not too much sincerity three years back. After a rather emotional, yet stupid fight where Charlie had accused him of losing her Star Wars DVDs (which he had not), Charlie had showed up at his doorstep to apologize to him. 

They had channel-surfed and found a rerun of Finding Nemo. Somehow, after the shitty fight, the story and the characters made them laugh so hard that they had bonded over the movie – and after a few shots had developed the fantastic idea to call each other Dory and Marlin for fun. They hadn’t stopped doing that ever since.

"You are lucky I know you so well.“ Dean laughed softly, putting his arm around her, nuzzling her neck. "Thanks.“ He coughed because he was bad at this stuff. The emotional talks and the hugging and - basically he was a repressed disaster. At least if one listened to Benny. Again, Dean shook his head. "Second?“

"Excuse me?“ Charlie said absentmindedly and rummaged in her bag. She pulled out her cap with a Dorothy quote from the Wizard of Oz, kissed the damn garment before proudly putting it on. "What? The wind’s fresh today.“ Dean eyed her skeptically, noticing the Ravenclaw scarf, the little Minion buttons, the fucking Spock patch which was way too prominent for this jacket. And he saw the chain with The One Ring, original LotR replica, gold, which he had gifted her for her last birthday. 

"Nothing, you look cool like always.“ He had meant to say cute, but Charlie hated that, at least when it was coming from him. She was a few years younger than Dean, 25, and she became furious when he got overprotective – he couldn’t help it since she was like a sister to him. The little sister he had never wanted but exactly the one he needed. 

"Right. Well, you’re still wearing those boots nobody even knows of anymore.“ Dean shot her a glance and she raised her arms. "They are awesome and get you anywhere, I know. Um so- what’s up on Dean Winchester’s love front?“

Dean moaned because he had been right after all. This whole trip had been her plan to get him alone for a fucking interrogation.   
"The front is cleared. Peaceful conditions now. I like the QUIET.“

"You’re lame. You don’t go out anymore. We should, I don’t know- Go to a bar one of these days. I could get laid - and so should you, you overworked mess.“

Absolutely not. Dean was very sure that he would not find the kind of person he secretly dreamed of in a bar. When he thought of it, he was immediately back on his very own cloud somewhere in heaven, figuratively listening to the angels with their golden curls playing harp and violin next to him. Dancing in a bar, however, was an option that he wouldn’t have chosen voluntarily even if a storm with pouring rain and lightning started outside and the bar was the only dry room far and wide. 

He liked bars, he really did, they were actually his preferred place to flirt, but he liked cozy, slightly aging bars, not the hip and slick venues that were currently in fashion. Maybe he was getting old, but he was also happy with the way things were at the moment. 

No obligations, he had his freedoms and could do whatever he wanted. Dammit, he could also talk himself into something. To stay to the truth: There were enough moments, especially when he lay awake at night, when he wished things were different. Still, he just wasn’t the type to obsessively look for a girlfriend or boyfriend. After all, in his opinion, that could only go wrong, at least as far as he was concerned. 

He wished to meet someone who would immediately blow his mind in such a way that he felt as if he were suffering from a virus, only without an actual disease. Hence, this constant freezing and tingling. As it turned out, most people were only interested in his body. As soon as they had fucked Dean once, they moved on. That had little to do with profundity. 

He had developed a rather bitter perspective, maybe, but until further notice Dean just had to strengthen his inner defenses so that complete idiots and assholes didn’t piss him off too much. He wondered if DanActive was responsible for such defenses, too. Shaking his head, Dean choked off his silly thoughts. 

On the other hand, Charlie looked at him so hopefully, he was fighting an internal battle with himself. He knew that even months later, Charlie was still reeling from her breakup. Her ex-girlfriend had cheated on her, which had pulled the rug out from under Charlie. Often enough, Charlie had to work long hours (she worked as a programmer in a major company in town), and Dean knew she could use a distraction. 

Besides, it was really time he got back out among people; he couldn’t just hang out with Charlie, Benny, and Garth, or with Bobby when they’d worked too late again and philosophized about all and sundry over a beer. And even those get-togethers were at a minimum right now, because he was putting too much on himself, because he couldn’t get rid of that damn sense of responsibility. Yes, he really should be around people. 

"Fine. If I say yes - will you shut up on the love topic for today?“ he pressed.  
"Okaaay,“ Charlie answered after a few seconds. "But you will check out the dude, right?“ What the hell. Why did she use this whimpering tone on him? That was not okay. He needed to distract his mind as he was already imagining his next car fix right now, a thing he always did when he was getting flustered.

"What damn profile are you even talking about?“   
"Geekatism obviously.“ Right. The community. He had loved the website for years, and it had been the place where he’d met Charlie, but he hadn’t been online there since summer. 

"You sure about that? I wasn’t even active there. How would one even find me?“  
"Your interests probably. I dunno. But please. Open the app.“  
"Charlie, you’re such a nuisance,“ Dean replied affectionately. 

Sighing, Dean put out his phone, which he had bought like 5 years ago and didn’t even get security updates anymore. At least, the app was still working, as he noticed. After three attempts he finally remembered his password. He definitely hadn’t used a Vonnegut reference there, no, that would be too obvious. At first, he had to delete like 186 unnecessary notifications flooding his whole dashboard. Then he found the like Charlie had been talking about. It was in the so-called "meeting area“. 

"AngelMuses“ was an interesting username to say the least. Actually, Dean said it out loud (barely audible) a few times, let the sound roll over his tongue, so it would linger in the air a bit longer. Yeah, it was decided: Dean liked the name, mostly due to the fact it implied _AngelMuses_ also reflected on loads of stuff. 

Go figure, that was something he could work with. The profile picture not so much. The guy had a fantastic side profile, defined cheekbones he’d love to lick on occasion. He thought the dark hair looked promising, but Dean couldn’t see the rest of this face. Instead, he saw the sky – and laughed. Well, it WAS fitting for the angel thing. 

Charlie was moving up and down beside him, seemingly way too excited about this whole ordeal. 

"Do _you_ want to read the profile?“ he asked jokingly, but Charlie took him by his word and grabbed his phone without hesitation. 

Charlie furrowed her forehead while reading, and she laughed. Then, she laughed again, shaking her head. Okay, what the hell was so funny about a fucking online profile? After two minutes, Charlie nodded at him, leaning towards him with a conspiratorial expression.

"I think you should consider marrying him.“ Dean was dumbstruck. "Just saying.“ 

She handed him the phone again, and he started scanning the info.

" _ **Bio:** I don’t understand. I checked the URL of this website several times and I am quite certain this community is not for job applications. Why would you want to know about my career structure? I do have a job I like very much. Furthermore, I am inclined to believe not many persons would be very interested in these matters, at least that is what my brother always tells me before going to a social gathering. _

_I will only mention that I am 33 years old and believe in sincerity, loyalty and kindness. I enjoy meaningful conversations and, without wanting to brag, I am rather intelligent._ “ 

Now, Dean guffawed and had to laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe properly. Soon, tears were running down his face and he held his chest in order to not collapse on the spot. 

How was this guy a real person? Either he was the most obvious troll in existence or he really was a dork. He looked up from his phone for a moment, only to see the knowing look on Charlie’s face. Why was she so smug about this? It wasn’t as if he’d done anything, on the contrary, he was just trying to get a hold of this frigging profile. 

Many of the guy’s answers sounded somewhat similar since this man seemed to know nothing about fan culture. For example, for the part of his "house“, meaning his Hogwarts house, he had written, " _I should clarify that the house I am living in is not my property. I live for rent although my dream is to own a house one day. I live in a cozy and spacious apartment, though. The house is a beautiful art nouveau villa that was renovated 10 years ago, and looks very modern inside. I enjoy this contrast a lot since I can identify with the mixture of classic aspects and modern trends._ “

At this point, Dean just lost it because he had not the slightest clue why somebody would register for a community he didn’t even know the basics for. He couldn’t stop laughing, he cackled and didn’t care anymore that persons would probably notice their strange behavior. The guy had to know he was hilarious, right? 

"Okay, Dean, the profile isn’t that funny. Get a hold of yourself,“ Charlie said and winked at him.

Dean folded his arms in front of his chest, gripping the phone a bit tighter. "Well, he’s my weird guy, and I find this very funny, thank you very much,“ Dean deadpanned, immediately wincing at the "my“. Okay, now he just had to read the rest, it wasn’t like him to start something and not finishing it. Logically speaking, he just had to find out more. And so he did. 

Dean continued reading the profile which was so strange and kinda adorable. For example, for the question "Star Wars or Star Trek“ which every single person he knew always answered with short things as "1“ or "2“ or the frigging name of the franchise, the mysterious guy had added a whole paragraph. 

" _I assume this is a question where I have to clarify which of these science fiction franchises I like better. This is not difficult to answer, but I want to say that the character of Spock is quite amusing and intriguing. I have not seen the complete series or all the movies for that matter, but I like him, that I am certain of. My decision will be Star Wars. The intergalactic war setting is exciting and the plot is well-designed, leaving also room for interpretation._

 _One could also ask existential questions of life and discuss them in depth – if the right occasion turns up. On top of that, the characters are so likeable. And if I might add a more personal remark: Han Solo, who reminded me of a brave cowboy, could take me on a flight with the Millennium Falcon every time. I hope this answer is sufficient._ “

Wow. This guy was so awesome?! Completely nuts probably, but so different from all the other people he talked with all day. The Han Solo thing even earned him more Brownie points because yeah, Han Solo was the shit. 

"Told ya,“ Charlie remarked who had obviously observed his reading and giggling journey. 

He read the other parts quickly until he paused at the favorite show passage.  
" _ **Favorite show** : I do not watch TV very often since I prefer reading. Maybe I am a bit appalled as to the things I was forced to watch in the past which I would rather not elaborate further on public display. When I indulge in the profanities of TV, I mostly watch nature or historical documentaries. They relax me a lot. On top of that, I have found a show called Riverdale recently. It is enjoyable._“

"You want me to give you some alone time?“ Charlie asked mischievously. "You look like a girl in high school developing a major crush.“ Dean huffed since he was certainly not developing a crush on a stupid profile. 

"Write him,“ Charlie commanded, her voice even more excited than before. Then, Dean’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest: In his inbox waited a message from "AngelMuses". 

AngelMuses had already written _him_. Holy shit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)
> 
> Next time: Dean tries to distract himself because he doesn't want to read AngelMuses's message. Surprise - he will still read it. ;)
> 
> I'll try to post the next chapter tomorrow (Sunday). :)


	3. Hidden layers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here comes the third chapter - and the first message! :) 
> 
> Real life obligations can be very exhausting at times, and writing always helps me to relax. :) Therefore, your encouragement means a lot to me, all your lovely reactions and comments made my week. Thank you so much for the support! :) 
> 
> In this chapter we’ll get to know more about Dean, his surroundings and also his past (a bit). He does his best to distract himself from reading Castiel’s message – with some developments. ;) 
> 
> For real though: We all knew Dean would succumb to the temptation, right? :D
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Dean**

Why would AngelMuses even do that? The most probable answer was that he had accidentally found Dean’s profile and thought he was interesting. But why him? That didn’t make any sense, one couldn’t even recognize him in the photo.

"I swear to God, Charlie, you are so exhausting,“ Dean complained, before tugging the phone away. He couldn’t read this message here, and decided not to tell Charlie about this development for the time being. Right now, he wasn’t even sure he’d read the message at all. Maybe that would be best, he was too occupied with other stuff anyway. Finally, they decided to visit the castle after all.

They went a little further into the castle because a large crowd had formed around it. The castle attracted many tourists. Inside it was very, very dark, in some corridors one couldn’t even make out the outlines, so they proceeded very slowly and cautiously. Their luck was that now and then some daylight found its way to them through small crevices. There were also isolated small windows.

Nevertheless, the signs of destruction could not be denied, and inevitably Dean’s thoughts returned to past times. Dean tried to imagine what fierce battles and bloodthirsty battles must have taken place here since various buildings were not even preserved, and they bypassed certain corridors because signs saying "Attention! Do not enter! Danger of collapse!“ prevented them from going in.

The still-present majesty instantly transferred to Dean, leaving him somewhat awestruck.  
"It’s about time you learned more town history.“ Charlie continued to educate Dean on the history of the castle.

When they finally stood in the dungeon, fear, panic, and a queasy feeling crept over Dean. He was into fighting, yes, not for nothing he had learned fencing, but violence for the sake of violence was not him.

When he thought of what the people here had suffered in the past, which torments had often waited for them daily, in addition to an already miserable life. How cruel persons had found pleasure in bringing innocent people to their pain and physical limits. Of course, criminals deserved their just punishment, but certain methods were taboo, in Dean’s opinion.

"Impressive and shocking,“ was his only quiet comment.  
"Come on, let’s keep walking,“ Charlie whispered, and Dean reached for her hand. He was still drifting off, feeling a little sick and woozy at the sight.

"Fuck, I need to breathe,“ Dean groaned. Well, if that wasn’t a comment he might as well have had tattooed on his arm.

***  
Back home, Dean grabbed his sports clothing and took off running. He felt his shirt clinging to his torso and his pants getting heavier and heavier because they were already completely soaked with water. But even that, at that moment, was just something that underscored this strange day. After a long shower he set off again, because he definitely shouldn’t find the time to read the damn message by Angel.

For a moment he considered going to the car shop to continue working on the Corvette, but if Bobby spotted Dean he would probably either decapitate him or lock him in his panic room, which to this day Dean didn’t know why he owned one.

In the end, he decided to go shopping, which he finally had to do anyway. Hastily, he walked through the rows, throwing everything carelessly into his basket, far too lost in thought. Thoughts of his work; the message; Sammy, whom he wanted to visit again soon; the message; his potential dinner for tonight; the message and the fact that he urgently needed to wash Baby again.

His thoughts tumbled until he heard a loud clang. Fuck. In front of him lay various yogurt jars now burst open, bread, pie, vegetables, peanut butter and the shopping basket. At least only a few articles, otherwise it would have been a single disaster. After staring at the floor for what felt like two minutes, Dean lifted his gaze again and grasped the situation.

He had promptly run into a guy with a tan trench coat, wearing a beautiful leather briefcase over his shoulder. Why was he such an idiot again? On the other hand, Dean had known right away that this day was cursed. What could he say? Something witty that spoke for his intellect.

"Holy shit. Sorry about that. I- oh man, I didn’t mean to.“ Well, one thing was for certain - that right there hadn’t been it. Dear Lord, please, please, send my brain back, he begged inwardly. The guy didn’t say anything at all, just looked back and forth alternately between his former purchases and Dean, until finally his gaze lingered on him. Dean quickly averted his eyes, not yet knowing what he was going to do.

Fortunately, apart from the aforementioned articles, which the other would hopefully not mourn for too long, nothing had happened. Except for Dean’s shock, which was still far too deep. Blood had rushed to his cheeks as fast as a rocket, and he took a (perhaps more extended) look at the man.

Probably in his early thirties, tall, the best height. On top of that, he dared to possess the perfect hair to tousle through, extremely sensual lips, and the most gorgeous blue eyes he’d ever seen. They weren’t just blue, first, they reminded him of the sky, bathed in an even more brilliant blue by the sunlight, then of the ocean, so beautiful and mysterious. Fuck, squared. This was not good. Not good at all. He was doomed.

"Howdy,“ Dean said, voice coming out hoarse. A somewhat convulsive greeting after he had just embarrassed himself in front of everyone. Not in front of everyone. Actually, very few had noticed. The only stupid thing, in Dean’s opinion, was that this good-looking guy had been one of them. Only now did he realize the guy didn’t exactly care for the thing called personal space because they were only inches apart.

Hectically, Dean’s eyes darted over his counterpart’s face, still being somewhat bewildered. How could a face radiate profundity? It was impossible, Dean thought – and yet.

"This might be not your best day, I presume?“ the guy said, his gravelly voice giving Dean goosebumps. The trench coat man smiled, and Dean could have pounced on him immediately for that comment, so Dean probably would have come to rest on the floor, on top of the guy’s chest, currently hidden under a white shirt.

Reasons? Well, that little smile made him feel even more stupid than he already did, then again that smile was also just heavenly. However, Dean wouldn’t also maneuver himself into the next embarrassment by staring nonsensically. Never. He collected himself and managed to create his best smile for the guy.

Dean raked his fingers through his hair, biting his lips. "Look, man, I am fucking sorry.“ He grinned broadly, and god, his belly tingled because this man was so ridiculously handsome – and interesting.

Yes, he really could see this guy reflecting on perception, hidden layers or finding the truth beneath the surface, preservation of culture and stirring one’s mind. All the good stuff that had intrigued him often enough – so maybe he was just wishing this mesmerizing guy would do something of the sorts.

Nonetheless, there might be a chance the guy was as intriguing as Dean thought he was. Could he really miss this opportunity? Yeah, what the hell - why not? He could try at least.

"You look like the handsome and intellectual type who sits on a sofa in a vintage coffeehouse, reading, maybe even writing the next _Fahrenheit 451_ or _Moby Dick_. Can I buy you a coffee to make amends? Oh, and you know what? Here, take this.“ He handed the man 50 dollars and blushed.

Why was he so flustered in this guy’s presence? Normally, he was known to act confidently around people, that was one of his best skills, and now he was such a mess. Breathe in, breathe out, he told himself, then smirked at the guy who meanwhile had tilted his head in confusion. "You don’t need to give me money, this was merely an accident.“ The last words had come out in a hiss, and Dean no longer understood the world.

Now, the man looked downright indignant, his whole posture was dismissive, and Dean raised his arms in the air defensively. Okay, okay, maybe he shouldn’t try to flirt with random strange guys in a supermarket, that was so, so wrong.

"Dammit, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Wanted to be nice, but never mind.“ Crap, this was such a fucked up scene. He had to get outta here. "I inform the staff about the accident. Have a nice one!“ He waved at the guy who still seemed confused and squinted his eyes.

Fantastic, that had been another wonderful addition to his failures in flirting with men. He could flirt with guys, no problem, but only when he wanted to mess around with them in a bar or similar. No strings attached, and just heavily making out because well, more wasn’t exactly his expertise.

In addition, Dean became a fucking teenager when flirting with guys he actually found hot, and this had been the best example. Great. More distractions needed. After finishing his shopping, he fumbled with his car keys until he decided to try something new. Everything was welcome today.

So he attended the book club at the local library, for which he had found a flyer some time ago. There were 8 other people there besides him and Dean felt right at home. They all seemed friendly, normal and rather quiet. No major excitements to worry about in this environment. A woman named Pamela, who seemed pretty cool and relaxed, explained the club to them.

"At first, it was just Gordon and me. We met when we started college and realized we were both bookworms. Then, because we discussed books so often, we wanted to make it a real club.“ She took a sip of water and tied her long, black hair into a ponytail. Pamela stood up, bent down and looked for something in her bag. She leaned down very emphatically, demonstrating (damn intentionally) her tattoo of "Jesse Forever“ that was on her lower back for all to see.

Dean smirked and stopped his smiling as soon as she was back on her seat, now showing the book they were reading. Gordon gave Pamela a long look and a grin appeared on his face. Oh! They were fucking - or at least almost fucking if Dean’s perception didn’t betray him which happened seldom. Way to go, Gordon, she’s a pistol, he thought to himself and concentrated on Pamela’s words.

"Believe me, the town was really missing something like that. There are so many sports teams, theater groups and so on, and I’m on the field hockey team myself. Nevertheless, I immediately thought that there should also be a circle where literature enthusiasts come together. Originally, Gordon and I always suggested the books, but in the meantime everyone has their own ideas that they would like to share with the circle. But maybe Gordon would like to tell you a thing or two, after all, he organized most of it.“

Dean nodded briefly at Gordon, and only now did he notice his peculiar appearance. He was muscular, had short black hair and a full beard which somehow stressed his features and eyes. He wore a gray shirt and cargo pants. Attractive guy, but not exactly Dean’s type.

"Hello from me, too.“ Now he was looking directly at them, and Dean immediately noticed his dark eyes. He also wore glasses with black rims. "We are glad that you are interested in the club. By the way, our club is called " _Poeisis_ “. What else? I’m 30, I’ve been traveling abroad before I graduated, and I teach history.“

Dean had already been completely taken in by Pamela’s introduction, because Pamela obviously knew something about rhetoric and how to inspire people. Gordon, on the other hand, was more level-headed, although he also seemed talkative. After the introductions were over, the other members briefly explained what book they were reading. _The Great Gatsby_ by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Not exactly light fare, but Dean liked that he would gain a colorful mix of reading topics here.

The procedure was for everyone to read the current book once first. After that, there was always a meeting to describe reading impressions and identify discussion topics, such as specific plot elements, characters, themes and style specifics. Dean liked this approach and listened intently as the others shared what they had noticed while reading the novel.

Although he had last read the work years ago, he quickly found his way back into the plot and better understood what it was about in the course of the two-hour meeting. In the end, it was decided to talk about the first-person narrator at the next meeting, which would again take place the upcoming week at 7 p.m.

Dean had been having fun, and was glad that at least the evening had now progressed. So far, he had done a damn good job of distracting himself from the message. Since he had to be back in the shop early the next day to finish a special job that had the utmost urgency, he relaxed at home in the evening.

Layered in his favorite (slack and worn out) flannel, he sat on the sofa, inspecting his cozy surroundings which were getting even more homey with every day. He loved his little cottage more than anything, and still couldn’t believe that Bobby had just let him have the cottage he had inherited from his wife because, by Bobby’s admission, he already owned a great house. Of course, Dean was aware Bobby also had tried to not think about his wife too much at that point in the past.

It had been the strangest and most awkward moment that had ever occurred between them, and yet it had formed a big familiarity between them. Bobby really was the finest, humblest guy he knew, and they had a very close relationship. Since Sammy and he no longer lived in the same town, being separated by many miles, Bobby had been his closest caregiver.

On that day, Bobby had just mumbled something about Dean earning, at least for once in his life, something that belonged only to him and that showed him how fucking special he was, something he could work on as he saw fit, where no one could tell him what to do. Where nobody would belittle him for his qualities before exploiting them.

At those words, Dean had started crying so hard that he had had to leave the room. And yes, Bobby had been right, there was so damn much to do and renovate, but it was in these jobs that Dean really got into it. Soon he and his friends would be tackling the next major steps, and he was looking forward to it.

Suddenly, Dean’s phone buzzed: Bobby must’ve been reading his mind since he had written him a message at this exact moment.

" _Hope this works. You still owe me a whiskey for crashing my phone’s display under the axle stands, boy! Anyway, probably shouldn’t have left it beside the car in the first place, so don’t stew over it too much. Got a new treasure here, you will like it. Be safe and sleep for Christ’s sake. Let your brain rest, only got the one! Bobby._ “

Bobby really was one of a kind and knew him so well. Almost every day he got a short message, mostly with random facts or short sentences such as " _Buy new motor oil!_ “ or " _Tonight, we’ll fucking get the Cadillac going. Bring the Power Rock collection, boy. Guitar solo version if you fancy!!_ “

Dean read the most recent message multiple (about 30 or 40) times and let his mind wander. Dean smiled to himself and was grateful, so grateful Bobby was in his life. Without him, the last few months would’ve been unbearable. He still missed college, but Bobby had allowed him to do a job that was both fun and useful. And Dean was the luckiest guy in existence. He quickly thought about checking on Sammy, but probably tonight wasn’t the best idea. Next week, Dean decided.

Bobby was right: He really should rest his mind for today. Normally, he read all kinds of books at night. Literature, academic essays, history books, sometimes trivial literature to let his thoughts come to rest. Sometimes he even spent whole nights finding out the origin of a word which couldn’t leave his mind. Yeah, he really was incorrigible. In the mornings, he was so tired that he needed much coffee to get up. But he didn’t mind because he did things he loved.

Although he only used his acumen in private now, he enjoyed still being able to in this way. He always looked for opportunities to sharpen his wits. Without Bobby, he would never have gotten into college in the first place. At the age of 26 Bobby had given him a harsh speech, telling him he was wasting his life at his father’s stupid "missions“. The fact Dean still flinched at the term his dad had used instead, really showed what a mess he was.

Most importantly, Bobby had been scolding him for declining his scholarship after high school. And Dean had deserved and needed to hear that speech, yeah.

A growl escaped him, and he threw two cushions across the room, so they landed in front of the bookshelves. Dean didn’t want to think about his dad today. Hadn’t heard from him in weeks and that was good. He shook his head, his fingers still hovering over the message.  
" _Will do!! Terrific skills in using a mobile, Bobby. Proud of ya. Have a good one!_ “

For a moment, Dean thought about the devastatingly handsome trench coat guy in the supermarket, the excitement he had felt when he had realized his own attraction for the guy. Damn, he really yearned for something meaningful, didn’t he?

Time to be more open-minded, perhaps. He roamed through the house, whistling _Stairway to Heaven_ to himself as it always calmed him down.

Then, at 11 p.m. his curiosity finally got the better of him. He went to his record player, put on the vinyl of _Bridge Over Troubled Water_ by Simon & Garfunkel, enjoying the tranquil and melodic sounds for a few seconds.

" _When evening falls so hard_  
_I will comfort you_  
_I’ll take your part_  
_Oh, when darkness comes_  
_And pain is all around._ “

Immediately, Dean starting smiling, feeling at peace. Finally, he slouched on the sofa again and started reading the message.

At first, he checked the date. The message had only been sent this morning, September 18, at 9:06 a.m. Early bird.

" _Hello RambleOnIm67. Since I don’t know your real name, I thought I had to address you properly by your username. Articles suggested this would be the most polite approach. I admit I am not sure how the right procedure is, but I can assure you I am nor troll nor bully nor attempting to catfish._ “

Dean laughed out loud. How was this guy for real? Normally, Dean would’ve thought someone was playing a joke on him, but maybe this guy was just a little dorky. He could work with that. Sipping his coffee, he continued reading.

" _I thoroughly enjoy your choice in regard to the username as I could find a double meaning here, an aspect which made me chuckle for a while. I appreciate wit and creativity. First, you are obviously referring to the Led Zeppelin song which I only know of because my best friend loves this band._

_I apologize._

_I do not want to oppose you directly in the beginning, so let me add that I also found a liking to this influential and quite legendary band. I spent many hours listening to them, many, many hours, mostly at night. This is a peculiar thing for itself since I normally listen to different genres. But music might be a topic for another time._

_The second meaning to your username might be another, and this brings me to the reason I decided to write you in the first place. You like to ramble on things, as I was blessed to witness. I solved your riddles. I was reading in the library when I stumbled on your message. The rest is history as younger people tend to say these days._

_On a side note: I am no "60-year-old elderly man", for I am merely in my thirties, hence I hope you are quite content with this outcome. Your imagination left me baffled from time to time which made me wonder about the person behind those words._

_Who is this man that cares so much? About literature, the importance of past, present and the future, the meaning of existence. Who is this man who appears to be so brave? Who develops his very own opinions on topics rather than accepting everything that has been said before. Who searches for hidden layers in the words in front of him and also in his surroundings._

_I hope this does not come out too forward or personal, but your brain appears to be somewhat special, making entirely different associations and connections than others would. I assume you must be highly intelligent, but I cannot know for sure, of course. I apologize for analyzing you from afar, it is in my nature, furthermore, I could not help it – since you showed a tendency to draw the consequences concerning your fellows as well._

_You are an interesting, no fascinating, person with the most profound and honest thoughts I have crossed in many years. Actually, I cannot remember the last time. What I know for certain is that I liked this scavenger hunt a lot. Another proof: You must be incredibly smart to think of this game._

_At this part of my message, it might not be wise to tell you I was up all night to read your notes, burying myself in the books, but I am sleep-deprived and my brain is not functioning as well as it normally does._

_For your information, I have shortly considered not writing you at all, but then I reread the notes and could not bring myself to dismiss the matter – I strongly suspect I would not be able to forget about all this anyway._

_May I ask how you came up with this unique idea in the first place? From what I figured out, you created the notes over the course of several days, the last I know of would be the one from January 24 (your birthday – I am quite certain I will remember this date from now on)._

_Since you left your contact info on one note, I got curious. I am not certain you are still using this platform. The info told me you have not been online for three months._

_Maybe you will not read this, therefore I will keep this message short (short by my standards) – although I have many questions, in fact._

_RambleOnIm67, I want to thank you for this thrilling experience, for enlarging my horizon. It does not happen these days. One might say your words have saved me today, September 18, saved me from questioning certain life choices from the past once more._

_Yours sincerely,_  
_AngelMuses_ “

What the hell? No frigging way! By now, Dean had stared at his laptop for at least 20 minutes without moving. He had to be dreaming, right? A real person had found his (embarrassing) rambling notes? A person who was insightful, articulate and fucking amazing!

In secret, Dean had wished for this, sure, but he hadn’t anticipated anybody finding the notes.

To be honest, Dean had always found it funny to think of a random person who found his first note which had been rather provokocative. Still, he had been convinced that nobody, no one in this damn town, would make the effort to find out about the next note, let alone the other two dozens or so.

Dean was unable to move or say a single word which didn’t happen often. Should he answer that message? And if so – what could he possibly say that didn’t show he was a total geek whose IQ was so high he had to skip two school years in high school? That didn’t exactly turn people on. Right?

And so Dean _freaked out_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :) 
> 
> I’m @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr, btw. :)


	4. Crossroads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 4! :)
> 
> We’ll have another glimpse at Castiel’s life (and at Gabriel ;)) – and of course, you’ll read Dean’s (pretty long) reply. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading and your lovely feedback - this motivates me so much!! :) Your positive (and enthusiastic) reactions were one of the main reasons I decided to post the next chapter already. :D Also: I'm very excited to post Dean's first message. :) 
> 
> For the second part of the chapter: I suggest listening to the song Dean mentions in his reply. :) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLUMmp0tLJA )
> 
> The songs I include in this fic always have some kind of meaning for the fic, btw. ;)
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Castiel**

The gardening shop was busy, and Castiel pushed his way through people, slightly annoyed. He loved plants, usually felt more connected with nature than with (most of) humanity. If he had his way, he could spend days in the forest studying vegetation.

However, he enjoyed greenery mostly outside, preferably in all its wildness, which is why his current apartment's balcony was an advantage for him. And so Castiel just wanted to buy some plants for his apartment that day and then head back home.

The fact that RambleOnIm67 still hadn’t answered him after almost a week distracted him more than he would ever admit. Probably Castiel had scared him off with his long message, or else the man was actually no longer active on the platform. Either way, his disappointment grew with each passing day, but he couldn’t say exactly why, after all, he didn’t know him.

A mother with her son amused him. The boy raved enthusiastically about the cacti in the nursery, but couldn’t understand why his mother wouldn’t buy him a large specimen.

"But mom, the cactus would fit so well next to my desk. I’ll do my homework right after, too.“  
"You don’t have time to take care of such a big cactus. Isn’t a small one enough for your windowsill?“

"Excuse me,“ Castiel interrupted the conversation. "Melon cacti don’t need any more care than the small species. Plenty of sun is important. The growing season is over by the end of September, so water it every few days until then. In winter, it needs almost no water.“

He knew all these facts because he had once spent a few weeks researching plants of different vegetation zones. He had learned so much about fertilization methods, the best angle for planting, the optimal amount of water, and the importance of flowers that he could probably work part-time here in the nursery.

But that would certainly not be a job for him, because he always had to radiate good humor. There were just too many people who... well, just too many people. Meanwhile, the little boy was still jumping up and down joyfully.  
"See, mum? I can do this. Please say yes!“  
"It’s okay, you’ll get your cactus.“ The mother laughed. "Thanks for the tip,“ she said, turning to Castiel. He wrestled a smile from himself. "You’re welcome.“

She probably thought he was a plant fanatic, but he really didn’t have a green thumb. A few plants, however, could only be beneficial to the coziness. And he wanted to feel at home. The sooner, the better. Even if the apartment itself was very nice, he didn’t want to live in a sterile nothingness. He loaded a palm tree into his cart. "Cassie!“ a familiar voice said.

Castiel turned around to face his brother. By now Castiel had given up trying to figure out how his brother so often found him instinctively, even though he couldn’t possibly know where he was. It was probably because of their sibling bond. As in 89 percent of all cases, Gabriel greeted him with a dirty grin.

Apparently Nora, Gabriel’s current "acquaintance“, had not been able to stand his beard because it was all clean-shaven. Gabriel's whole attitude was expectant, as if he couldn’t wait to tell Castiel some great news.

But since they had talked on the phone last night, he knew that Gabriel was just making an attempt to annoy him. Gabriel and he had a good relationship, even though, or perhaps because, they were so different.

Gabriel referred to himself as a "little bitch", and honestly Castiel couldn’t have come up with a better term himself. On the other hand, Gabriel could be counted on, despite his tendency to party, his playful character and his unpredictability at times. Gabriel was the one family member Castiel had always looked up to, and he had his heart in the right place.

They visited each other regularly, and also had dinner together once a month. Now that he had moved back here, they saw each other even more often. Castiel was happy about that, because he always had a lot of fun with his older brother. On this day, however, he wasn’t in the mood for family. He patted down his pants and took off his gloves.

"What’s up?“ Of course, his brother was not to blame for the fact that he would have preferred to stick his head in a hole in the ground. Sometimes he envied moles, which were truly fascinating creatures.

"Wow, brother dear, what a warm welcome.“ Gabriel gave him a quick hug.  
Castiel’s shoulders slumped automatically, he couldn’t fool his brother anyway.

"Not in much of a chatting mood today. Mum went back to her old ways last night.“  
In fact, it had been the second time he had discussed with her over the past week – the first time being the morning after his library adventure. He had been so annoyed after the call he had shortly considered not leaving the house – but he had needed some groceries.

His mother really had a talent of bringing up the hurtful topics considering his writing and his past too often. It was hard for him, reflecting on the things that had happened and almost ruined him. She couldn’t let it go. He was 33 years old, and she judged the roads he’d taken and the barriers he had been forced to build as if he were a teenager. Fortunately, he had learned during college to block her out in such situations. Otherwise, Castiel would probably still feel lost – more lost than now, to be specific.

Gabriel’s expression softened, he held Castiel by the arm for a moment.  
"You know she means well, Castiel.“ As far as Castiel's mother was concerned, Gabriel had always been too diplomatic. Yes, she meant well, but she also was too forgiving sometimes. Castiel took a deep breath and exhaled, had they discussed this so many times that it hung out to his ears. Arguing was one of the things he could use the least at the moment. And so he kept his anger to himself and gradually calmed down.

"Let’s just talk about it another time. I have many things on my mind.“  
"Please! And what exactly would that be? The art of lazing around?“ Gabriel winked at him, and Castiel rolled his eyes.

As an older brother, Gabriel had always considered it his job to provoke and draw Castiel out, to push him in the right direction. To a certain extent he succeeded, but Gabriel was no demigod who could warp reality.

"I have an apartment to furnish. It’s still all full of boxes. Besides, I already want to prepare for the semester.“ The truth was that he wanted to distract himself from his thoughts in the first place. But he was fine, he was refreshed. As his old boss had always used to say: He needed to become his own calm anchor.

"Geek,“ Gabriel flattened. "You’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger, both your colleagues and all those studyholics.“

Castiel shrugged. This wasn’t the first time they’d talked about this topic. Gabriel didn’t understand that he just wanted to be on the safe side. He hadn’t taught in too long and didn’t want to be caught flat-fooded. For that reason, Castiel was poring over his books at an unreasonable time of night, even though he secretly knew that wouldn’t take away his excitement either.

"I’ll leave you alone with it. I know how important this job is to you.“

Castiel nodded, ran his hand over his eyes. Tired as he was, there was no question he wouldn’t feel like a million dollars today.

"I hope it will be a fresh start. I need a win.“  
His brother patted him on the shoulder. "You know what else you need for your perfect fresh start?“

"A bottle of Cuban rum?“ Castiel replied dryly. He counted the seconds, knowing what was coming now.  
"No - or at least not only. A man, brother dear.“  
Castiel heaved a sigh. "I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship.“ He ran his fingers through his hair, wishing they would change the subject. Why did Gabriel have to keep bringing it up?

"Hello? I’m not even talking about a relationship. But to meet a new guy, would do you quite good. If you could then exchange a few blowjobs and fuck, it would help everyone. You need someone riding you on a regular basis, or the other way around. Anyway, no details, please.“

Castiel shook his head at Gabriel’s usually very direct and vulgar speech, hoping that no one had overheard their conversation. He continued to walk through the rows, loading a few violets and other balcony plants into his cart.

"I’ll pass,“ Castiel grumbled, intently reading a sign about fertilizing roses.  
"I’ve filled my vacant waiter position, by the way. That’ll alleviate some stress.“ Castiel nodded absently, used to his brother’s sudden changes of subject. "He’s cute. Hazel hair, southern complexion, good build. Hot.“ So that was the way the wind was blowing.

"Congratulations on the new hire. You’re seriously suggesting I ensnare your employee?“  
"Why don’t you have a chat with him? He’s a few years younger than you, and so far he’s showing a lot of promise. I just thought it would be nice for him to meet you.“

"I see.“ Castiel smirked. Basically, his brother only meant well, yet Castiel didn’t really feel like having an affair. He had to be on the same wavelength with a man and be able to confide in him his deepest thoughts in order to get involved in a relationship. Only it didn’t come to that.

"Ha! You were just thinking about that, am I right?“ Gabriel grinned triumphantly at him and made a victory fist.  
"Gabriel. I haven’t had sexual intercourse in a while because of all the appointments. I’ve been reflecting on the subject in general.“ Now this had really sounded like pseudo-intellectual excuses, Castiel observed.  
"Just don’t put any ideas in my head.“

Gabriel folded his arms in front of his chest, cocking an eyebrow at him.  
"Castiel, seriously. Don’t act like a prude. Oh, dear brother, the things you could do if you would use your mysterious aura for a change. You could do anything.“  
Castiel clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"I’m not a philanderer. And as I just mentioned, my "love life" is nonexistent right now.“ Castiel would have had a few opportunities for uninhibited nights out in recent months. A couple of men had hit on him aggressively after evening events, but he had been rather turned off, having since gotten over his short-lived one-night-stand phase after coming out.

The men he had met in the past two years had often been attractive, but they had lacked that certain something.

He didn’t want a man who talked after his mouth, who tried to impress him with trifles. With his muscles, expensive outfits or belongings, his successes. He wanted a man who challenged him, made him laugh, and simply blew him away. Who accepted that he only did sports to have a balance and to let off steam, not to work out. Castiel wanted to discuss and philosophize with him - for hours - and forget about time. Apparently, this man had yet to be invented – or baked as some movies seemed to suggest if one believed Balthazar.

"You’re still coming over these days, though, right?“ his brother then asked.  
"Of course. I promised I would. I can take books and my laptop too.“ He smiled at Gabriel and this time it felt sincere.

Castiel was still sleep-deprived, could not rest anymore. In addition, his office hours had been exhausting. So many freshmen had shown up that two hours had turned into four. Normally, he did not extend the regular office hours if no appointments had been made beforehand.

Nevertheless, the students had all been so excited, he had seen how much they feared failing their first exam and thus making their entire studies more difficult. So he had bitten the bullet and taken extra time for them. He had stayed up until three in the morning correcting essays from his poetry class.

Keeping himself permanently occupied comforted him over dull and unwelcome thoughts. He was still at loggerheads with his parents, although they had come to terms and talked things out in the meantime. Nevertheless, there had been a lot of bad blood between them, and Castiel grew tired of these discussions.

Once in his apartment, a glance in the mirror told him that he looked finished and, above all, contrite. His hair, which Gabriel liked to call in-the-bed-and-ready-for-sex-look, was hanging down.

The man in the mirror didn’t seem at all like the Castiel who enthusiastically discussed with his fellow men. Perfect life. Who had asked that the other day? First he should slip out of the clothes, after an extensive shower he could philosophize further about life and its peculiarities.

The evening was well advanced, and he had busy days ahead of him. He spent the rest of the evening writing, because in this way he could indulge in the illusion that he could simply write away his worries. In the process, he typed away into the blue, letting his creativity drive him.

Despite the superficial occupation, his brain subconsciously worked at full speed again, chewing over his worries for the innumerable time. He was still making moderate progress on his actual novel project, in contrast to his essay, a fact that gave him a stomach ache in light of his appointment with the publisher.

He was undecided whether the publishing people would be convinced by his progress, although Crowley kept assuring him that they were thinking along exactly the same lines. In the meantime, Castiel had reached a point where he was at least satisfied with his draft, but that didn’t mean for a long time that those in charge would kiss his feet.

He was worried, and that only made things worse; on the other hand, he couldn’t avoid an official meeting forever. Earlier in the year, he had submitted two chapters to Crowley and the editor, which had served more to calm their nerves, but contrary to his fears, the excerpt had gone over well with them.

Once again, he feared that he would not be able to maintain the facade for much longer, that he would soon be exposed as the blocked writer he had advanced to become in recent months. He felt no pride about this; deep inside he was ashamed of it. The longer he put off writing, the more he resented his perceived inability.

Castiel didn’t want him to be one of those writers who produced one or two successful works and then never returned to his old strength. Back then, when he had decided to devote himself professionally to writing, to throw himself into it with full passion, he had known that it had been one of the best decisions of his life. At that time, he had been overflowing with euphoria, had written "Sun-Kissed“ within a few months and published it under a pseudonym.

Everything else had turned out to be such a positive domino effect that today he was giddy with joy. He had invested more time in his crime novel and various scientific essays, and had also developed his style considerably since then. Nevertheless, nothing in his career filled him with as much pride as his first work. If things hadn’t turned out so disastrously with Meg, things would probably be different.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, he heard a familiar snarky voice in his mind.

Now he already heard Balthazar in his thoughts. The imaginary Balthazar was right, as he often was. He had been able to finish his crime novel, he just needed enough rest and inspiration to inspire him again.

In the middle of the night, when his concentration was actually at zero, his computer signaled that he had received a new e-mail. Frowning, he looked at his inbox and his heart gave a little jump. A notification from Geekatism (he hadn’t yet figured out how to turn off notifications), received at 3:49 a.m.  
"RambleOnIm67 has sent you a message.“

Now had happened what he had no longer dared to hope for. Why did he hope at all? Maybe the other person wrote to him only to rebuke him, to ask him if he had gone completely crazy, to send him such a long message out of nowhere. Castiel didn’t want to admit it but he was quite excited – and started reading.

" _Hiya AngelMuses,_  
_alias the 60-year-old elderly man,_  
_alias dork,_  
_alias the No.1-Han-Solo-stan,_  
_alias the literal/ry,_  
_alias the author of fascinating messages,_  
_alias the guy who almost gave me a heart attack._

_Welcome to my – how did you call it? – special brain. Yeah, I dunno about that, but thanks anyway. I mean, I’m kinda smart (no bragging intended), but I’m a normal guy. Also not 60, by the way._

_The passage with the questions, rather remarks, concerning my personality was frigging flattering. I’m also flattered you registered to a platform which obviously isn’t your gig at all. Um, but I liked your profile – might get into some topics later._

_In that context: You gotta enlargen your knowledge in pop culture, dude! Or maybe a qualified teacher could show you a thing or two. ;-)_

_Still not decided how I’m gonna call you, let’s stick with Angel for now. Or dork on occasion, I like dork. First, lemme apologize for the late reply. I dug your message, very much, so it’s not your fault, it’s mine (okay, that came out so wrong...)._

_There’s just a lot of stuff going on in my life – stress at work, doubts, some family business, exhausting fights – you name it. And honestly? I wasn’t sure how to reply._

_Are we on the same page here?_

_You must’ve noticed I was pretty (very) flirty in the library notes. Since you decided to write me, I came to the conclusion you’re at least okay with me being a cheeky bastard._

_Gotta tell me if you’re not, I mean it._

_Okay, now that this matter is settled._

_Thx for the long message, I was not prepared, to say the least. You hinted that you’re a Chatty Cathy, ya might earn more Brownie points, then. I am thrilled though since you’re the kind of guy who really looks into stuff. I appreciate it._

_To be honest, I hadn't really thought this thing through. I mean, I kinda hoped somebody would find the notes, I really did, but then again, I figured: Naah, not gonna happen._

_I’m a bit at a loss here. Texting and all that stuff is not my expertise, 'kay – scratch that. I suck, ask my friends, ask anybody. But I’ll try to at least answer your questions, and we’ll continue from there._

_So music, huh? Tell me about music. Whaddaya like? How do you listen to music? And when? How does it make you feel? That kind of stuff. Create a little scene or image for me. I’d love to read about that. So hit me with your best shot, and I’ll try to do the same. If you wanna._

_By the way: It’s half past 2, I’ve been working for 12 hours straight with one single break of 15 minutes, and was helping out a friend after that. I gotta say the thing you wrote about being sleep-deprived? Ain’t unfamiliar to me, on the contrary._

_Right now, I’m frigging pumped. A mix of caffeine, sleep deprivation, painkillers, rereading your message, the ambient light of my favorite lamp, thinking, writing down my thoughts and in general, me being my complicated self._

_Anyway, I’m sitting (lying ;-)) on my Chesterfield sofa (dark brown and damn cozy), listening to Crossroads by Calvin Russell._

_I dunno if you’re into Blues, but do me a favor and check it out. (Good headphones advised, and oh, turn up the volume because that guy’s voice is terrific. Trust me on this.)_

_I told ya about the song because your message (and the fact you found the notes which I had written at a turning point in my life) got me thinking about crossroads._

_About trails, highways, dead ends. Traveled and untraveled roads. The important turns, the hidden roads. The roads with dangerous obstacles waiting on the path, roads shifting into more paths, that kinda stuff._

_Got me thinking about things I wished I’d done in the past, things I wish I could erase or forget. I also thought about the future, about things I wanna experience a bit differently, maybe even for the first time._

_Maybe, I am standing at the crossroads, ready to finally move in the right direction. That’s- well, dammit, I’m being too open, too soon (I am, ain’t I?). Fuck, fuck._

_Sorry 'bout that._

_Yeah, maybe there’s something to the line "imprisoned by my doubt“*._

_(Originally, like two hours ago, I wrote more paragraphs, tons of them, on the topic and meaning of roads, was getting too deep into this stuff, the whole thing became too philosophical. Deleted it again, wrote it another time, deleted, wrote the whole essay again, even more lengthy this time, deleted. Well. You get the idea.)_

_Why am I even telling you that? You might ask. Well, the notes-in-the-library-thing symbolizes this whole road metaphor._

_As for the idea behind the note thing: That’s kinda a funny story. No, lemme rephrase that since it’s not the laughing kind of funny I meant. Let’s say "peculiar", instead. I have a thing for semantics and etymology. I love WORDS, 'kay? And I love rambling on (and with) them (there we go again...)_

_Who would’ve guessed, huh? Well, deal with it, buddy._

_You seem to be pretty fluent in Latin, so you’re probably aware "peculiar", coming from the Latin word "peculiaris", has the literal meaning "one’s own“, but is used for "weird“, nowadays._

_And yeah, the double meaning fits in this context 'cause this whole note affair has a damn personal meaning for me, but also has this intense background which is weird and – honestly – even fucked up by most people’s standards._

_My former occupation mostly consisted of research and finding/following clues. So. Seeing all of that as a kind of riddle helped me with the things I saw and experienced back then. Ya know. Coping mechanism?_

_“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.”* – Vonnegut's absolutely right. I need to remind myself of that from time to time._

_Anyway._

_I actually called my projects scavenger hunts. What a coincidence, huh?_

_So my notes weren’t some bullshit I came up with while being bored or drunk (better stories to tell there in case you’re interested. ;-) )_

_They were an attempt to liberate myself from the past – I s’pose. I know, I know, unusual approach, but it had to be done._

_Wanna know why? Those scavenger hunts on the job, they weren’t MY thing if ya know what I mean. Not at all. I mean, apart from the name I had given them, I couldn’t (shouldn’t) decide what to do or in which way. I had to listen and follow instructions and that’s about it._

_Therefore, the part where you talked about me developing my own opinions/thoughts (and kinda praised me for it) caught my attention. That – I really, really liked it 'cause I fought hard (you wouldn’t believe how hard) to get there._

_Thx!! Let’s leave it at that._

_Yeah, I figure, you’ll understand my enthusiasm for the scavenger hunt thing better now. Hope so, at least._

_So, that has gotten kinda personal, no frigging clue where that came from. Have never told anybody about this, like ever. Will not apologize, though._

_I mean, you literally asked for it. ;-)_

_Wanna return the favor? Tell me something about you, something awesome, maybe a small secret._

_Muse, lemme delve in. (Double meaning is completely intended.) I’d like that._

_I’d also be interested in learning more about how my words "saved" you as you called it. Got me intrigued – but that’s probably not a topic to be dealt with in passing._

_Looking forward to hearing from you, Angel –_

_RambleOn._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"imprisoned by my doubt“ → a line from the song I mentioned: Crossroads by Calvin Russell
> 
> *“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.” -> quote from "If This Isn’t Nice, What Is?: Advice for the Young" by Kurt Vonnegut
> 
> Thank you for reading and your encouragement! Please let me know what you think. :) 
> 
> Come say hi to me on Tumblr (@dean-and-cas-at-the-sea) :)


	5. Synchronicities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 5! :) This chapter is a bit angsty but also hopeful. :) 
> 
> I don't want to give away too much. I strongly suggest listening to "Stairway to Heaven" in the second part. Meaning, for Cas's message or at least for Dean's reaction. For me, it made everything more - tangible. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Dean**

"You’re not gonna jump, are ya?“

Dean winced briefly since he definitely wasn’t expecting company up here. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a movement and carefully turned to the side while removing his headphones. He quickly checked the guy’s appearance. Standing in front of him was a man in his thirties, medium length hair, fancy leather jacket and the coolest Chelsea boots Dean had seen in a long time. He liked the outfit, and the guy’s eyes were friendly and warm.

The man grinned – the grin being one of the cheeky kinds which Dean often used and also could make him nervous – and eyed Dean with interest. Then, his eyes widened a little, other than that he had a rather relaxed attitude. What was he doing on the roof terrace?

"No, I like my life, no need to worry.“ Dean shrugged and nodded in affirmation.  
"Glad to hear that.“ He smirked, and Dean thought that he’d never met a guy who seemed to be so confident and at peace with himself.

The man clicked his tongue, again grinning broadly. "I’m not sure I’ve got rescuing a damsel in distress on my vita.“  
Faced with this strange statement, Dean snorted as he stifled a laugh. "I just needed some time off.“

"Off what?“ the stranger immediately echoed. For the fact that they hadn’t even introduced themselves, he was quite curious. But the likelihood of him remembering what Dean had to say, let alone confiding it to anyone, was close to zero.

"This.“ Dean made a dissolute gesture with his arms and gestured toward the door. "People. Sometimes I forget how fucking awful humans can be,“ he added, ignoring the feeling that he might have said too much. The guy laughed and stood next to him. It was surprisingly easy to talk to him.

"You have a quick mouth, I like that.“ And now the guy raised his thumb which caused a chuckle out of Dean.  
"I got the feeling you ain’t here just for talking a guy out of potential jumping, huh?“ Dean asked, grinning.

The guy clicked his tongue and folded his arms in front of his chest.  
"Got me there, kiddo. I was looking for Bobby, but seems the old grump is at his cozy home already.“ The guy shrugged, almost apologetically.  
"Yeah, but I’m here – and there ain’t a car I can’t fix.“ Dean winked at him, taking his book and jacket, and nodded at the guy. "Let’s head back down, and take a close look at the lady, then.“

"Oh, so you’re the kid Bobby’s always raving about. Always figured you were, ya know, an actual child. But you? You’re a guy after my liking. Yum!“ the guy remarked, and Dean huffed awkwardly, didn’t know what to say to that.

They approached the metal door, and Dean opened it with a heavy push. It was unusual that customers came all the way up here, plus, the roof terrace was not known by most people, but it seemed the guy knew Bobby quite well.

"No worries, I’m not here to get into your pants although I could see why one would. You must have a way with the guys, probably have them swallowing your tongue and licking that full lips of yours after the second drink.“

This guy was fucking unbelievable.

Dean shot a glance to the side and rolled his eyes, already knowing these kinds of comments to the fullest. Growling, he continued walking, feeling as if the stairway down was suddenly too long and too demanding to be finished.

"Kiddo, you have the whole annoyed expression going on. Not necessary. I said that because you have a confident aura, a friendly smile and your whole body is saying you’re a protector. I didn’t mean your looks. God, you must’ve met loads of bitches and assholes, to feel objectified like that.“

Now Dean felt baffled, coughed to distract himself from freaking out. Who was this guy, a mind reader? Meanwhile, they had arrived at the workshop’s first floor again, and Dean immediately saw the guy’s car which was parked outside.

He let out an appreciative whistle. "Damn!“ In front of him was a dark red 1956 Bentley S1 Saloon. A fucking beautiful car.

Dean continued whistling, inspected the car from all angles, tenderly touched the patina. He thought about what he knew about the car. The power steering and agile chassis should make for fun rides, indeed. For a moment, he opened the passenger door, directly inhaling the scent which was a mixture of earthy wood and leather. The dashboard reminded him of a ruby, a real treasure.

The whole car showed charisma, plus, it was elegant and reliable. Dean was lost in thought. Yeah, the guy had to be some kind of lawyer or similar. The car would certainly fit. He could imagine the guy driving to his patrons, immediately showing his confidentiality in a way.

Holy crap, he was jealous. Of course, no car would reach Baby, never ever, but he would like to drive this car occasionally. Dean’s mood immediately increased whereupon the corners of his mouth turned up. He looked at the guy who apparently had witnessed his excited inspection with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"I gotta give it to you, man. That’s a frigging wonderful car. You have taste.“ Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, now that he knew the man was not interested in him.

The guy looked at his fingernails for a second, quickly moving his hands afterwards, although it happened in a mocking way as if he was making fun of the persons who did that.

Finally, Dean shook hands with the guy. "I’m Dean, by the way.“  
"Gabriel, but please call me Gabe.“ Gabriel winked again, and seriously, was this guy a hobby comedian?

"The brake pads are pretty worn, need to be replaced, but I’m more concerned about the engine. Started making some sputtering noises on the way home. An idea what it might be?“

Dean shrugged his shoulders, licking his lips in thought. "Could be anything. My best guess would a clogged fuel injector, but I’d have to look into that. Anything else?“ he asked while sinking to the floor. He lay on the back, taking a quick look under the car. "When’s the last time somebody looked into the aircon?“  
"I dunno. Must’ve been a while,“ Gabriel’s muffled voice sounded.

Dean sighed, rolling back to the surface. "Well, there’s condensate dripping out. Gotta fix this, a broken aircon can cause tons of other problems.“  
"Sure. Do what you gotta do, you’re the mechanic, lover boy.“

Dean rolled his eyes playfully, and rubbed his nose. He couldn’t get a hang on this guy. Sighing, he prepared the papers, handing them to Gabriel who filled them out in a rush.

"You never denied it,“ Gabriel remarked after, observing the surroundings and checking out a tool once in a while.  
"Denied what?“  
"That you’re into men. You were just annoyed with the way I supposedly hit on you.“

"Yeah.“ Dean coughed. "Good observation.“ What else was he supposed to say? Nobody had ever prepared him for conversations like this one.  
"I knew you were bi from the beginning, I just found it interesting you did not try to overcompensate and tell me how you’re off to hooking up with a chick later, that’s all.“

Now, Dean felt flustered, almost tripping while walking. "You- what the hell are you even talking about?“ Was he that easy to see through? He never was.

Gabriel sighed. "I’m not trying to make you feel awkward. You just- well, you shortly checked me out on the roof, didn’t you? It’s my job to observe people, to know what they want and which kind of persons they are.“

"M’kay,“ Dean replied indecisively, fixating the car again.

"There’s a party at my club soon,“ Gabriel announced after a while of small talk and handed him a flyer. "It’s a monthly thing for getting to know new people from the community. Take a friend and come.“ He winked again, and Dean was speechless. Who was this guy, and why was he even more cheeky than himself?

"You own a club? Why do you own a club?“ Dean mumbled indignantly.  
"Because it’s fun? I also own a café if coffee is more acceptable to the fine man.“ Gabriel laughed, and Dean didn’t know how exactly this situation had gotten so bizarre over the course of a few minutes.

Dean shook his head in disbelief and laughed. "Thanks for the invitation, I’ll consider it. My best friend will definitely come, though, that’s for sure. And no, that’s not what I meant. I always look at a person’s car and try to figure out their profession. Normally, I’m rather good at it. Figured, you were a lawyer, but now – I dunno, I just failed. That’s disappointing.“ That was an understatement. He hated this fact.

Gabriel put a hand on Dean’s back and padded it for a few seconds. "My car is in good hands, I see. Ya know, I did study law, but then I found it too boring. You, kiddo, are the right guy for this.“

***

After working on the car for a while, Dean drove home. Quietly, he talked to Baby about his day and the things he wanted to tell Angel if the guy would ever answer him again. Baby never judged, she just listened, and sometimes it was the exact thing he needed. At home, he was suddenly wide awake when he saw he actually had a message from AngelMuses.

" **September 25, 8:07 p.m.**  
 **From: AngelMuses**

_Hello RambleOnIm67,_   
_your message truly was a delight to read on this rainy day. You hinted several times you’re afraid to ramble too much or rather that you are being too honest. Rest assured this is not the case. More importantly, your thoughts were such a fascinating perusal, I could not stop reading. Then, I read your message again, to fully grasp every brilliant thing you said, as there were many of them._

_Your backstory to the notes was wonderful, although it hurt me to hear you had to suffer from these demanding experiences on your job. I have developed some ideas on the contents of your former profession, but I also don’t want to be too presumptions._

_However, I am grateful you shared this personal details about you and your innermost thoughts with me. Truly, you are a fascinating person who deserves good things, who deserved to be saved from these painful scavenger hunts from the past._

_Therefore, I am glad you seem to be more at peace with yourself, now that you are apparently doing another job than before. I assume, the persons delegating these responsibilities to you were also a (the?) major factor for making you doubt yourself. Still, as I mentioned before, it is not my intention to analyze you._

_Of course, I will tell you a secret. Since you told me a lot about you, many interesting, fascinating things on which I reflected for many hours, it’s the least I can do to show you how much I value your openness and also this situation which was quickly turning into an extraordinary conversation. I consider myself lucky to have made your acquaintance this way._

_I am not qualified for the texting matters either, in case you wondered, therefore, I struggle with finding the right words, with deciding on the topics. More importantly, I struggle with coming to the right conclusions._

_Not every topic seems to be appropriate for a casual conversation, I learned that in the past, nevertheless, the pleasure of talking to you already carries more weight, more depth, more excitement than I could develop with most of the people, and this is not an exaggeration for my insight into human nature is quite good._

_I am rather attentive, hence, finding out about the matters you occupy yourself with, which you gift your attention to, certainly intrigue me._

_As for your first question: Yes, we are on the same page here, I am aware of your insinuations and I am genuinely enjoying them. It is not a very cheerful secret either, I apologize for that in advance._

_I want to connect my answer with the reply for the question in which you asked me about music. In my opinion, I can explain very well what music means to me with a fitting example. First of all, I found it a peculiar (:-)) occurrence you reflected in depth – the latter being a wonderful thing, in my opinion – on the topic of roads. I noticed similarities, almost synchronicities in the things you and I experience and feel._

_From what I have learned about you so far, I assembled two roads you were referring to were your former occupation and the aspects that belong to it, and second, your path to learn about your bisexuality and how to accept it – to act on it. At least, that is my interpretation. Please, don’t be ashamed, my road to my coming out was the one with the many obstacles you mentioned. It was a painful path, a long path, and I am still processing it._

_Your honesty and openness are wonderful, you are a brave man for writing so deeply, directly from the heart. It is seldom. Perhaps, the following is one of the main reasons I find your mind so brilliant (as mentioned): You have a way of phrasing, of writing which I can’t get enough of – I found myself craving for more thoughts. I wanted to read this “essay“ you mentioned. More ideas, more background, more you._

_Your thoughts are refreshing, in fact, you are. And now, I believe I am flirting with you as well. Hence, this is the part where I am confused. I like your flirting, just so you know. Was it flirting? It is so hard to tell for me._

_(In case you were flirting: I really could use a teacher for my knowledge in pop culture. I assume you were volunteering? Maybe, you could give me a good basic package, let’s say for movies? I would appreciate the help. ;-))_

_My favorite music genre would be classical music which I presume might be predictable for a person who does not have much knowledge in pop culture as you have figured out by now. Moreover, I find enjoyment in jazz and blues also, therefore I enjoyed your song recommendation._

_Sometimes I like to listen to rock, Led Zeppelin is one of the best examples of this. I do not own a sofa like yours – it sounds heavenly – my sofa is quite normal, but I do have a very cozy leather armchair._

_This would be the place where I listen to music. I put in much effort to place it perfectly. I can watch out of the window, see my balcony and also nature, but it is also the best spot to properly grasp all sound nuances in music. I positioned the hi-fi equipment this way on purpose._

_How do you listen to music? Do you have rituals? What are the times of day when you listen to music the most?_

_Today, I wanted to tell you about my associations with Stairway to Heaven which is one of the songs I can never get enough of._

_I will start my “music story“ with my associations to this song, and then I’ll explain how I stumbled on it in the first place. It is important for the moral – and it's not the one-phrase-moral you don’t seem to enjoy. ;-)_

_The first time I listened to the song overwhelmed me. It was as if I could explain my whole life with this single song. It was an extraordinary experience, it was cleansing._

_And most importantly, it left me with the feeling of hope:_   
_“And a new day will dawn for those who stand long_   
_And the forests will echo with laughter“_

_When I was three years old, my parents died on a sailing trip. I had been in the toddler group at that time. With no grandparents or other relatives to care for me, I changed foster families frequently. Nowhere did I feel cared for. I often hid and was withdrawn._

_In the foster families I was out of place, I never really reached the top of the stairway to my heaven on earth. To a place which is so good and warm and complete that I could be content. When I was eight years old, I finally came to people who immediately met me with warmth and cordiality._

_They could not have children themselves, but wanted children more than anything. Just one year later they adopted me and I quickly saw them as my new parents. Finally, I had a home. The following years were better, I led a relatively normal life although I had to learn the hard way that money does not define people. My parents are wonderful people and also wealthy, one of the main reasons for which I felt lost often enough. Hence, “all that glitters is gold“ makes me feel many things._

_It was only later, in my teenage years, that I learned I had in fact a half-brother from my biological father’s former marriage. We met when I was thirteen years old, he was already 17 by then. Although we hadn’t known each other before, we immediately got along. He truly is the best man I know._

_Before having him I only had my foster sister Hannah which is the part I do not want to leave out for my explanation._

_Hannah and I have a difficult relationship. We used to talk often, although I was never as close to her as I am to my brother, but then she had this boyfriend who was a bad influence on her. He took pills, and belittled her. Quickly, she was becoming a different person in order to please him. She pretended to like the things he did just because she told herself their relationship was good. Gradually, she fell apart, lost her true self._

_Nobody believed me, but I knew. However, her ex excelled at irresponsibility. Then one day he got drunk and crashed a car, it was what one would call a classic hit-and-run. Still, he was not the brightest mind because only a day later he told his friends about it. I was sitting a few tables away. I had read about it in the newspaper, the other man was in a coma._

_I reported him anonymously, thinking that would bring Hannah to her senses. She was so angry. I still shake when I think about this matter. By now she’s better, as far as I am informed, but I haven’t heard from her in years. This experience was a turning point for me, it was a matter when I found myself in front of a crossroads. Where I had to find the right path, the stairway._

_This path – yes, let’s call it my path to understanding homosexuality as a part of my identity – started earlier, in my teens, as I have mentioned. You should understand my parents are very religious people, therefore, I grew up with certain ideas and beliefs._

_I often felt different, though. I don’t want to give you all the details in one single message, I think it might be too boring and also too much._

_I only wanted to mention the time in boarding school when I felt it very acutely. I suffered from many things, including the feeling of understanding certain aspects of myself wrongly, of being wrong._

_(“There’s a sign on the wall, but she wants to be sure_   
_Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings_   
_In a tree by the brook, there’s a songbird who sings_   
_Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven“)_

_At that time, I thought I was wrong, that my doubts and my wish to experience new things like you called this were wrong. It was only later, many years later, that I learned - which is described very wonderfully in the song – there are always two sides. There is not only one truth._

_When listening to the song, I could see this, to understand this significant fact. Only in retrospect, but at least I was able to. I hope my view on this is graspable._

_I always liked music, but it became more important at the time, in the process of my coming out. I was not in my best place. My brother was a huge support for me. He gifted me the hi-fi equipment I mentioned, he flew to Italy to see it in person and bought it there._

_My best friend was also wonderful. He always talked to me about music, and also Led Zeppelin, but one day he just handed me this CD, Led Zeppelin IV. The CD had a note pinned to it._

_“Listen to track 4. Hope you’ll finally climb your stairway to happiness, brother.“_

_I cried without knowing the contents of the song. Then, I listened, really listened. And I listened again, so many, many times._

_I know the most popular interpretation of this song concerns materialism and the fact accumulating money doesn’t bring happiness which it also bears for me, but most importantly, it is about the things which are solely right on the surface, but show themselves to be too undefined or simply not right for oneself even though they might be right for another person._

_For me, it is about finding the meaning, the essence, about finding oneself in the end. And I realized that it is not gold that glitters – I am._

_My brother and my best friend are the two people who understand my homosexuality, who support me. Hence, I will always cherish this listening experience even more because I had this new equipment and the CD, both parts of them, parts of me now._

_Music is magic. It has its own language, telling about feelings, telling stories in a way one is not able to do with words. It makes me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of. This is music._

_And you, you also have your own language, your own way of addressing and processing things – and I am fascinated by that. It made me want to open myself up. Maybe it was due to the fact we remain anonymous, but mainly I identified with many things you said, and you also made me reflect._

_I only wanted you to understand that my whole existence has been one of doubts and fights (inner and outer) and searching, always searching. It relieved me to find out I was not alone with my struggles, that you somehow experienced similar things. I thank you for that._

_I apologize. This secret was nor small nor awesome – it was perhaps too fundamental and sad, hence I wanted to share a rather comforting quote with you in the end. It’s by the writer Kahlil Gibran and describes – perhaps more to the point – what I was trying to portray in my message:_

_"Say not, “I have found the truth,” but rather, “I have found a truth.”_   
_Say not, “I have found the path of the soul.” Say rather, “I have met the soul walking upon my path.”_   
_For the soul walks upon all paths._   
_The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed._   
_The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals."_

_I am genuinely looking forward to reading from you,_

_AngelMuses_ “

When he finished reading, Dean sniffled with a tiny smile on his face, quickly fading away like a fata morgana. His mind spurred for his thoughts were crashing him down on him like he was pressed under a car tire.

In his head, he heard the lines " _There’s still time to change the road you’re on_  
 _Your head is humming and it won’t go, in case you don’t know_ " and he thought about the latest call with his dad. He thought about all the beef they had in the past, and it was all too much. Dean’s mind was too much at this moment, he could not think about all he had done wrong, all that could turn out a disaster soon if he wasn't able to make this right.

Everything.

He forced himself to think about something good, he thought about Angel’s message. Never had a person put so much effort into making him understand their thoughts and experiences. Never. He couldn’t breathe, and his heart pumped in his chest.

Instead, he put on _Stairway to Heaven_ although his mind and heart had saved and internalized the whole song. He lay down, pressed play on the remote control and closed his eyes.

The melodic guitar and flute sounds made their way into his ears and softly whispered to his soul.

And then he saw a kid with black hair in his mind, alone and without a person to confide in. A kid who didn’t have a real home and who had to be strong for his health’s sake. He felt the confusion, and the urge to impress his parents because they had at least given him shelter and something to eat.

Then, he thought about the feeling of closeness to his brother. Dean thought about the confusion and the forlornness, the feeling of being a failure, of being mistaken about oneself. About trying to find happiness in things where it could never be found.

The little thoughts, the curiosity, that stuck into his head, could not be pushed away or forgotten although everything in himself told him he was wrong for feeling this way. Being alone with these doubts and fears, suffering until finally freeing himself and accepting.

And then the kid’s appearance changed, dark hair becoming brown. Dean saw the same images, only differing in details, but creating the same feelings.

He heard the flutes, the soft guitar tones, the repeating “makes me wonder“ which made Dean wonder about Angel once more, and he heard the yearning in Robert Plant’s voice. Then, he heard the “Ohhh“s as if sung by the kid until finally turning into his current self’s voice.

By now, the tune was getting more powerful and loud, accompanied by the remarkable guitar solos and drums.

The screaming and the long-drawn-out tones as if he is prancing in protest, rebelling, finally fighting back until not fighting himself anymore.

“ _And if you listen very hard_  
 _The tune will come to you at last_ “

Dean cried, tears constantly running down his cheeks until they vanished into the void like his confidence used to in the past.

He wrapped his arms around himself as to protect himself from his anger and doubts and his father’s yelling.

The song was getting to its final chords again, was decelerating, continuously slowing down, getting more tranquil.

More and more until the instruments vanished, leaving behind Plant’s voice only. Until his voice and Dean’s breathing synchronized. Until they became one. Until Dean was like the mentioned rock, not rolling away out of fears anymore. Until he felt grounded. At peace for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All song quotes were from Stairway to Heaven.
> 
> The quote Cas mentions in the end is from the book "The Prophet".
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)
> 
> Next chapter will be online this Friday!


	6. Once in a blue moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 6. :) I hope you’re up for more rambling from RambleOnIm67. :)
> 
> I suggest listening to the two songs mentioned:
> 
> For the very beginning: "The Nutcracker Suite, Op. 71a; Waltz of the Flowers“ by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QxHkLdQy5f0)
> 
> "Blue Moon“ by Beck (https://youtu.be/WIWbgR4vYiw)
> 
> Also: As you might have noticed, Dean loves all those pop culture references and mentions (I mean, it IS canon!! :D). 
> 
> Let’s just say the things he writes about and includes (that goes for the movies as well) aren’t mere coincidence – and he sends (at least subconsciously) some messages/signals there. :D :D
> 
> I’ll also put the two scenes Dean mentions in his message in the end notes in case you wanna check them out afterwards. The clips are very short and don’t contain spoilers for the movies, but I think they make Dean’s thoughts regarding the movies more graspable. :) 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Castiel**

The drive into the city went smoothly, with traffic jams and construction sites only slightly impeding progress. Listening to _Waltz of the Flowers_ by Tchaikovsky always relaxed him, therefore, Castiel smiled the entire time while driving. Fortunately, the publishing house was not located directly in the city center, so he found a parking space relatively quickly. The building breathed awe into Castiel, reminding him of his beginnings and why he could be damn grateful to be living this dream.

Crowley was waiting outside the large front door and had dressed even fancier than usual for the appointment. The suit showed at first glance how much money it had cost, and the matching patent leather shoes completed his business look just perfectly. In contrast, Castiel felt almost underdressed in his shirt, jacket and suit pants.

"Good morning, darling. How’s our prodigy on this wonderful morning?“ As always, Crowley appeared completely focused, nothing could shake his determination and professionalism. His lips carried the usual slightly ironic smile, but Castiel knew how to handle Crowley’s behavior.

"I don’t know. Who are you talking about?“ asked Castiel, grinning. That morning, Castiel’s mood had risen abruptly when he had seen a notification from Geekatism. Due to the upcoming appointment, he hadn’t found the tranquil and time to read the message so far, as he needed attention for it, but he was highly motivated and felt confident.

He had also had a short message from Gabriel that simply contained the cryptic statement, " _You’re gonna come to the gig, brother dear. On a side note: Consider buying another (old) car which has some issues occasionally._ “ What Gabriel wanted to achieve with his message was a mystery to him.

"Castiel, you’re in surprisingly good spirits for a meeting that will determine whether they give you a cash injection,“ Crowley interrupted his thoughts. When Crowley looked at him through his horn-rimmed glasses, his demeanor always resembled that of a stern professor reprimanding his student.  
Yet, he himself was supposed to take on that role. On the other hand, Castiel didn’t think much of using malice and intimidation to encourage his students to be more disciplined and eager to learn. He would continue to follow this path because so far, the feedback from his students proved him right.

"I have to channel my tension somehow,“ Castiel finally delivered a particularly lame explanation. "All right.“ Crowley passed through the revolving door and walked briskly to the reception area. When Castiel entered the foyer, Crowley had already announced their arrival and signed them in.

Once again, Castiel welcomed his decision to hire Crowley as his personal assistant at that time. This was mainly because Crowley had acquired indispensable skills over the years and had even become his agent meanwhile. For this, Castiel lacked the organizational talent and penetration.

After half an hour of waiting, the editor in charge and one of the heads of the fiction segment received them in a friendly manner, but also with a certain distance. It was obvious that they were not happy about having been put off by Castiel for months.

Originally, they had wanted to meet earlier this year, but Castiel had managed to squirm out of it then. Slowly but surely, he had to show progress, otherwise the financial support he had hoped for would become a distant prospect. This possibility would mean that he himself would be faced with much higher expenses than he had previously calculated. Other job or not: this additional stress factor was not something he longed for in his dreams.

"Mr. Novak,“ Mr. Uriel initiated the conversation.  
"We are really excited about your progress. The novel now fits even better into our entertainment program, you must know. Our esteemed publishing director has received an offer for a great open-air that will take place next year in late summer.

Here we have the opportunity to approach our target audience directly. Potential readers need authors they can touch. A trade fair is still a trade fair. But an outdoor event, a few booths, lots of places to read, for mutual exchange. These are ideal conditions. We’d love to have you as one of the guests.“

He said this in a tone that did not allow any argument. Castiel liked this prospect. Although he was aware of the importance of trade shows, he preferred to be close to his readers. "That sounds great,“ he declared, beaming. It was time for him to do some selling. "In fact, you’ll find that my novel is even ideally suited for the setting. I’ve selected four chapters for today that I hope will give you an idea.“

No one needed to know that he was really only on chapter 8 and that the chapters were more than immature anyway. He handed his printouts to everyone, with Crowley receiving a copy only as a formality. Silence reigned for the next hour. Castiel watched the movements closely, but could detect no horror or displeasure. The editor was the first to speak.

"Castiel, I have to say, already these few chapters have captivated me as we know it from you. You’ve really made good progress there in the last few months. This is going exactly in the direction we envisioned. So progressive and pure, full of heart. One notices how much this work means to you on a personal level. It reminds me of your first one.“ That took a load off his mind. Mr. Uriel nodded in agreement. "There’s nothing to add to that. Good work. Once again it shows that we backed the right horse.“

At that moment, Castiel felt as if he were standing on a cliff, gazing into the distance, and a fresh sea breeze blew on his entire body. Finally, Castiel could breathe again; he was back. That Crowley had a similar impression was revealed to him by a quick glance sideways. "Let’s still set the time frame.“

With these words, Mr. Uriel took out his calendar and made notes. "The book must be ready to go to press in July at the latest, so that we still have enough time for promotion. Therefore, agree with Amelia on an appropriate time slot in which to fine-tune and ultimately perfect your draft.“ Then he clapped his hands once, which was uncharacteristic of his usually sober demeanor. "There we go again, big things ahead, colleagues.“

After the meeting, Crowley patted him on the shoulder, a gesture that amounted to something like a long hug with his agent. They talked about the planned reading tour, fixing some dates and details while eating lunch together. This was an excellent and satisfying day.

At home, he was overcome by a real urge to write. He wrote for hours without stopping and managed to complete a rough draft for the first third of his novel. He had to work full steam ahead for the next few months, which would be challenging on top of his job. But he was highly motivated and knew he would deliver a great result. He was back.

Then he finally read the message from RambleOnIm67, couldn’t wait to read what he had to say.

**September 27, 1:24 a.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_Holy crap, that was fucking amazing, Angel!! I appreciate your honesty. Did not expect you telling me something so personal. And it WAS awesome, duh. Not gonna lie, it gave me many, many painful and also frigging good feelings – you’ve no idea how much I needed to read something so profound and, yeah, beautiful today. Made me feel a bit more hopeful, to be honest._

_I mean, I was so fucking sorry to read about your foster sister Hannah, that hurt, but I’m glad she is better. Other than that your story really had a hopeful turnout then. I am happy you have your brother and your best friend, they both sound like wonderful people! Glad to hear that, and it made me smile in the end. Smiling does me good._

_I already read your message yesterday, and it made me kinda emotional. Needed a day to ponder over all of this. Plus, I had some bad days this week, fucking awful. Was visiting my brother the other day, my dad called while I was there, and everything went downhill from that point. The whole situation pissed me off so much._

_My song of the week is "Blue Moon“ by Beck. I listened to it while driving back home from my brother. I really was fucking angry and tired, so incredibly tired, and I felt damn alone because of the fight with my dad I mentioned, but the song is so soothing, and speaks from my soul. I think it’s rather self-explanatory._

_I dunno. Probably would’ve gotten into an accident without the song that day. It really was a whole other level of shit. Not gonna get into details since this really isn’t the best topic to bring up when just getting to know a dorky stranger from the library. Dunno why I even mentioned this in the first place. Fuck._

_Really, sometimes my mind is doing things I can’t explain, on the other hand I figure I shouldn’t try to pretend I’m someone I’m not. Well, that’s hilarious coming from me since I did exactly that for the better part of my life._

_I mean, why am I both the punching bag and the horse that pulls the wagon out of the deepest mud? Why do I have to be the sailor on the mast, keeping track and watching out for the dangers, and fight on land as a soldier of the infantry when the first shots are fired? Why do I simultaneously have to neutralize the others like a Man in Black, and be the archive of world horror and monsters myself? Why should I gush with joy like the spring in the Garden of Eden just to appease, and yet swallow the hellfire until it burns the last piece of my core?_

_Dammit! (Not gonna delete. Needed to be said. And you were honest with me, too.)_

_Oops. So much for my plan to be mysterious and captivating in this message._

_Surprise. I’m in a bad state right now, so thank you for making my day better. I know you didn’t even try to cheer me up – I mean, how would you know. It’s not like you’re able to read my mind or anything. Right?_

_But, you’re good with words, and I appreciate it. I mean, not gonna lie, I felt a lot of pain, but also hope. It actually reminded me of a situation a few years back._

_On the job I found this amazing place, right in the middle of nature, in the woods. And it spoke to me, I guess, that’s the right description here. I was a mess on that day, dirt all over me, scratches and bruises covering my body, my already worn-out clothes full of holes, only rags in the end. Kinda like my mental state._

_My body ached, and at the same time my limbs, mostly my legs, felt numb – unfortunately my brain didn’t. I think, yep, I was in shock. I panicked. So, I approached this kinda tower, deer stand to be more precise. The ladder had exactly 23 steps, the 14th being a little rotten._

_The stand was made of wood, in the back there was little door and when you went out there it had this small iron platform. I lay down there, my back hurt like hell, but I immediately forgot about that. I looked at the sky, all those kinds of blue. The clouds created so many, many pictures. It was beautiful._

_But the things you let me feel with your message? That stuff was like umpteen times better. Fantastic!_

_What I also dig: You liking Zepp and cherishing them, well – the way I do, though your approach is so- personal. I mean, wow. This whole story you built around the song there. It made me feel things while reading and afterwards (understatement of the decade)._

_On a side note: You were in boarding school. I had to change schools on a regular basis, but I dunno, boarding school must’ve been tough, I imagine. You do know Dead Poets Society, right? I mean, if not: Watch it immediately! It’s so awesome and deep, and you will like it. Definitely._

_No really, you spoke about how much the song cleansed you back then. I think, I experienced something similar last night._

_By the way: I liked the way you analyzed my username in your first message. Good job. May I add even a third meaning for that? Obviously "Ramble On" is about this man hitting the road. Going 'round the world – rambling – always looking for his (THE) girl._

_And well, that could be me. Not necessarily looking for my woman, could also be my man. I love driving, I love my car. Plus, I’ve been practically living on the road in the past, actually also for almost a decade like mentioned in the song (not so much anymore now, good thing). And yeah, here we have the whole road thing coming into play again, huh?_

_Well, I’m just the guy in the song. Trying to find meaning in life, the meaning OF life, and the one. And I guess, the part where Zepp makes the references to “Lord of the Rings“? (Absolute must-see and must-read, dork!)_

_I mean this part: “'T was in the darkest depths of Mordor I met a girl so fair. But Gollum and the evil one crept up and slipped away with her“._

_I always imagine that this would be it, ya know? When you’re in your darkest state, in the depth of Mordor, concerning the mood or situation you’re confronted with (and oh, I know those hellish states, those dark holes...) – and you meet the most amazing person anyway._

_And yes, I love this line "when magic filled the air“ because I really, really hope it can be this way, pure love._

_Um. Anyway._

_Meeting that person despite the hardships?_

_Then that’s a sign, it's gotta be. I mean, “magic“ can mean that – bringing light. The word’s origin (Old Iranian/Proto-Indo-European) also means “to be able to“ or “to help“. I mean, the double meaning is so neat. It fits oneself, as in achieving things you weren’t able to before, and secondly, the other person is there to help, to support you. That’s pretty cool, isn’t it? :)_

_And there are always more obstacles, more shit that’s going on, but you keep fighting, always, because eventually, you’ll get the girl – or the guy. And there has to be something good in the end. It will be worth it. I hope I’ll experience this kind of magic one day._

_Crap, that has gotten deep really fast. What am I even doing? Never mind, I know I can be kinda intense. This whole anonymous thing helps me to be more open, I s’pose._

_Okay, now for my music routines._

_Lemme try (I really have my brooding face going on here. More adorable than the one’s the famous philosophers have on the paintings, though). M’kay, gotta set a mood for this. You see, I live in a little cottage, a beautiful building. The cottage is single-story, made almost entirely of stone, and has a gable roof. The first floor has a wooden facade in which an oval window is embedded._

_On the right side of the cottage, a stone fireplace rises into the air. As soon as you get into the house you’ll feel warmth. All the wood - it makes you feel at peace. The smell and the way it feels under your fingers, I swear, there’s (almost) nothing better. I also love the floor: parquet made of walnut wood, the darker color brings a nice contrast to the walls which are made from oak tree. Behind the living room there’s a large window and a glass door leading to a terrace._

_The terrace was my favorite place in summer this year, perfect for reading and contemplating until 3 a.m. Perfect for diving into other worlds while forgetting about the real one from time to time. (Sorry, definitely not trying to destroy the mood.)_

_And I love coming home, and it really is home, the first real home I’ve ever had, and letting fresh air into the room. Immediately relaxes me. A wide stairway with wooden railing, starting at the wall pointed towards the terrace, goes up about three meters and on a horizontal level almost reaches the wall by the front door._

_Right next to the stairway is a large bookshelf (huge!), and below the top landing is a narrow hallway. So much for downstairs. Not gonna go into details about my bedroom, though it is pretty awesome. In fact, it is so cozy and homey one doesn’t wanna leave the bed... ;-) Anyway, I spend most of the time in the living room. And that’s where the music comes into place._

_I frigging love music. Period. There’s nothing better to relax my (often overwhelming) mind which can occupy me so, so much. Too many thoughts all at once, flooding my brain, often as violently as an avalanche or the storm tide._

_Music accompanies me everywhere. I listen to my cassette tapes while driving, I also have a radio and an old Walkman at work._

_To motivate myself, I often listen to music very, very loud. Turn up the volume and work. Do what you love while listening to what you love. Boom. Damn awesome. While taking care of Baby it has to be powerful music to get in the right mood. When I feel good, she’ll be the happiest, sweetly purring again. And at home I have a record player. Found it on a flea market I visited with my best friend a while back. Amazing. Still, I also got this stereo with two huge external loudspeakers and an amplifier. Listening to CDs on these buddies? Terrific!!!_

_I guess, we have this in common then, owning traditional hi-fi equipments for really getting into the sound, into the little details. I gotta admit, I kinda hate digital versions of songs. Sure, I got some, but I don’t particularly like streaming services. I like owning physical versions of music, really cherishing it._

_For example, sometimes I touch the cover of an album, and my mind immediately produces memories, sensations, associations. There are no words how much music makes me feel. And that’s the good thing right? Like you mentioned: Music actually brings the things to life one cannot put into words._

_What I like most is laying down on the Chesterfield sofa I mentioned – listening, really listening. And inhaling all the notes, the voice changes, the differing instruments, the change in pace, the emotions._

_That’s it, that’s the best thing. Where the magic happens._

_Sometimes it’s such an intense experience for me. I taste the guitar riffs or the hoarse voices or the pain and joy and power and love on my tongue, directly taking it into my heart and soul._

_Oh man, with all my rambling I almost forgot. (Who am I kidding? Didn’t forget, my memory is quite excellent, I guess I wrote myself into the right flow to be brave enough.) So, you... you’re gay. That’s cool, yeah, very cool. Mmmm. Guess, I can consider myself lucky. :-)_

_God, I suck at this, flirting with decent guys, that is. I really do. (And yes, I was flirting with you, dork. Have been on multiple occasions, thanks for noticing. ;-))_

_I mean, it’s my fault, most people (and by that I mean almost everyone, doesn’t matter if stranger or friend/family) don’t know. You wrote about my bisexuality (which was a good observation, btw) and I gotta say: I only talk (really talk) about this topic with two people in my life._

_I’m not as open as I wished I would be, regarding the conversations, it’s different with the, um, I dunno, kissing or similar. Actions work better. In fact, I found much support in music, movies, literature, especially one book which I might get back to another time. Still, I’m working on being more open, and I try not to be too disappointed by setbacks. For example, I bumped into a very handsome guy the other day (gorgeous blue eyes), and I was just – lost._

_So, you’ve been, um, even more than decent so far. You’re fucking interesting and amazing, and also kinda cute. :-) Fuck, it feels good admitting this – and I also really like that it’s you._

_Mm, glad you asked me to teach you about the pop culture thing. Will take a while if we want to be thorough... ;-) Not to forget the fact there are things to learn in person which we have to leave out in this writing context (unfortunately). M’kay, this package, yeah? It will be my stuff, the things I like, so no guarantees those movies would be on anybody else’s list._

_One part of the package will be a little homework for you, buddy. You gotta buy a good TV soon. I’m assuming you don’t have one and if you own one it’s an outdated model, small and just for usage, not entertainment. 55“ at least, good contrast ratio, enhanced audio, and two things I find important: color accuracy and fast refresh rate. Will attach some links with TV suggestions to this message to give you an idea._

_As for the movie recommendations. I wanted to give you some classics for the beginning, but since we talked about (found) family and finding happiness in the context of our sexual orientation, I’m gonna start with a movie which is kinda a guilty pleasure._

_Meaning, I tell people I’ve never seen it, although I used to watch it every month (at least). It’s called "Little Miss Sunshine" and it’s about an imperfect family consisting of many peculiar characters (seriously, I cannot read or hear this word anymore without kinda thinking about you. Oops. Might be material for a special list.)._

_The movie’s heart-warming and hilarious, and gave me so much comfort when I felt lost and awful. I figured I suggest it since you did an awesome job of portraying the fact there is not one truth, not one way to be happy, not one way to see people. Um, and there are tons of good quotes in there, but you really gotta watch it. It will stay with you._

_There’s a scene where the protagonist’s grandfather reassures the girl. Although the grandfather is different, his words always remind me of a good man in my life. The best, actually. He is a father figure for me and always tells me how good I am, that I’m not a failure. I dunno how I even deserve him. Mm._

_Also, this whole road trip thing gave me a new perspective of being on the road. Not just driving from A to B, but it can be about the things that are in between. The little adventures. The road trip’s also about supporting each other despite some fights going on, it’s about being there for each other especially in hard times. I like this message._

_When you’re still in the right mood after that one, you could watch the movie I intend to watch tomorrow night (yeah, I’m a night owl as you’ve probably figured out by now.). A classic and one of my favorite westerns would be "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid"._

_Love the characters, the dynamic between the two protagonists is great, their dialogues, but also the way they work and fight so well together. For example, in one of my favorite scenes they are jumping of a cliff together in an attempt to get rid of the bounty hunters. Awesome! Soundtrack and aesthetics are top-notch, the ending’s legendary. Highly recommended!!_

_Will think of a fun drunk story I’m gonna tell you._

_Oh, and I gotta ask you some further questions 'cause I really wanna know more about you: What was the first thing you thought of this morning and the last when you went to sleep (the day you read this)? Don’t have to answer the last one, my answer would be pretty deep, probably._

_Name one of your quirks you secretly like._

_Favorite place and why?_

_And then an easy one: Favorite food?_

_(Yes, you got me. I made a list with questions I wanna ask you. I’m that kind of guy. Again: Not gonna apologize.)_

_Night, Angel,_

_RambleOn._ “

Castiel stopped reading, trying to process all the things he had just learned. Then, he reread the message, slowly taking the words in, again feeling astounded and mesmerized by the other’s way of writing, being so open and honest. He saw all those references, the personal details, the emotions and the things which were so cheeky Castiel blushed a little. In fact, all those words were so wonderful that Castiel’s belly tingled even more the second time he read them.

There were so many things he wanted to write, so many aspects he had thought of in the last hour alone that he felt the urge to immediately write all his musings down. Moreover, he wanted to look for the TVs since RambleOnIm67 had actually sent him suggestions in a second message. He was a man true to his word, a fact Castiel liked a lot.

Castiel wanted to watch the movies his correspondent had mentioned because they had sounded enjoyable. Entertaining movies would lighten his mood, he was sure of it. Right here on his cozy leather armchair, Castiel could not think about anything else anymore. His heart had been warm while reading, so warm. And his soul and mind had felt understood.

For a few minutes Castiel allowed himself to imagine the lovely house which the other had described in detail and with so much passion Castiel had seen such a vivid image in his mind. Moreover, he googled the song "Blue Moon" the other had mentioned as this week’s comfort song.

The tranquil tune rained down on him, and the lyrics wrapped themselves around his entire being like ivy tendrils.

Meanwhile, Castiel imagined a man in his car, watching the road fly past him and trying to overcome the day’s anguish. He listened to the song with his eyes closed until he was sure he had fully grasped the other’s state.

Castiel also thought about the blue moon as such since it didn’t often occur and therefore was associated with rarity.

He continued with his perusal.

After his fifth time reading the message, Castiel felt conflicted. He had enjoyed the flirty tone, the insinuations and the fact the other man had been so open, vulnerable and interested.

While the song was still playing in the background, Castiel also remembered the religious studies his parents had wanted him to do as a teenager. Back then he had learned that certain religious groups had celebrated the blue moon. They had considered it as something out of the ordinary, something magical.

Castiel knew something profound had occurred the day he had found the notes in the library. Call it fate, an ethereal power planning for them to meet, a pull stronger than a magnet, or the best coincidence Castiel could ever have wished for: In fact, the exact definition didn’t carry grave importance.

What did matter, however, was the fact Castiel felt disappointed. Naturally, he knew it was too early for this feeling, that he was being irrational, but he still could not get this thought out of his head.

Finally, he retrieved into his own silent asylum which was described in the song.

Castiel had not expected this. Now, he felt alone and lost for RambleOnIm67 had a girlfriend. The man he found so intriguing already had somebody in his life whom he adored dearly and whom he cared for. Somebody he called Baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scene from "Little Miss Sunshine" in which her grandfather comforts Olive: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FiyVUPuvxU
> 
> And here’s the scene from “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid“: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KyR7XB0VBPM
> 
> The movie is really, really good (I used to watch it with my little brother as a kid) and the dynamic IS awesome! :D (also kinda reminds me of a certain duo *coughs* :D)
> 
> *looksatDean*: Sweetie, maybe it would’ve been an idea to introduce your car properly before writing this way about her, mm? Poor Angel!! :( 
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	7. Excelling in patience

**Dean**

" _Hello RambleOnIm67, thank you for your astonishing message and your extraordinary insights. I am mesmerized by your words and, more importantly, by you. You truly are a remarkable man. Nonetheless, I am sorry for not understanding your intentions better._

 _Flirting as a matter of fun is new to me. Writing you with solely platonic intentions seems plausible in this situation. I have to think about this. Also, there are some work-related matters I have to attend to. I will answer in depth soon, however. Thank you. AngelMuses._ “

The message really didn’t get any better with every time he read it. Dean was in a bad mood. In fact, he felt so shitty he had shortly considered cancelling the renovation. After he had woken up, he had seen a notification from Geekatism. At first, he had been thrilled until he’d seen the strange content.

Charlie had a date, and he really didn’t want to take that away from her. Still, Dean felt lost, needed someone to talk this through. Instead, he had taken Baby and driven to a spot by the river where nobody really went to.

Dean had read the message more than 100 times by now, and still couldn’t get a hang on it. What did the guy even mean?

First, he complimented Dean like no one had ever done before, and in the next sentence he practically told him not to flirt anymore. He really felt lost, and tried answering him, his fingers lingering over the display.

" _Look, buddy, if you’re not interested, just say the word. I’m too traditional for this ghosting crap._ “ Delete. There was a slight chance that Angel was actually busy right now, figuring out whatever shit.

" _Ya take this mysterious stranger thing way too seriously, dude._ “ Delete, too accusing.

" _No idea what you’re talking about. I mean, you literally wrote me we’re on the same page. Can do the platonic bro thing, yeah. I’ll ace it._ “ Dean rolled his eyes because this was getting more cringeworthy with each try. Dammit, this was even more accusing. Delete.

" _Thought you liked the flirting? Wasn’t gonna make you uncomfortable. Can try to stop-_ “ Dean cursed under his breath, deleting the message again. Yeah, sure, that didn’t sound desperate and pathetic at all. No, that was the wrong approach.

"' _Words can be like X-rays if you use them properly - they’ll go through anything. You read and you’re pierced.' Wise guy that Aldous Huxley, don’t ya think? Do your thing, I ain’t running anywhere, Angel. Except to you, perhaps._ “ Holy crap. Delete immediately.

“ _Flirting is supposed to be fun, you adorable dork. Doesn’t mean there’d be no serious intention there from my side, ya know._ “ Delete.

“ _It’s the right mixture which sets hearts on fire, buddy. Just saying._ “ Delete.

“ _I like our convos as well. When you’re finished reading, sitting there with your mouth open and ripped apart in the best way? Feeling so seen? Yeah, I dig that._ “ Delete.

“ _Am also mesmerized by you, Angel. I dunno what’s happening here, but I liked this. Dunno what I’ve written, but I really would prefer the non-platonic approach if ya know what I mean. Still, buddy-way is fine by me. Let’s do that._ “ Ugh, that was so stupid. Delete.

In the end, Dean sent a more neutral text, deliberately relaxed. “ _Hey Angel, thanks for checking in. Don’t worry, take your time. Good luck with your Angel business. Looking forward to reading your message. RambleOn._ “

Something still bothered him about the way Angel had written. Quite distant, despite his remarkably warm and open words at the beginning of the message.

As Baby turned onto the gravel path, he could already hear loud voices. Reliable were his friends, he had to give them that.

It was a beautiful day, pleasantly warm temperatures and a bright blue sky lifted his spirits considerably.

He pulled the key out of the ignition, reached for the large bag in the back seat and took a deep breath. Why was he still thinking about Angel?

A knock on the window pane broke through his reflections. Bobby. He sighed.

Bobby would know something was wrong right away. Dean sighed again before unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out.

“Mornin', Bobby,“ Dean muttered, yawning briefly as Bobby immediately pulled him into a tight hug. The other patted him hard on the back, making Dean yip. He shook his head, but briefly let himself sink into Bobby’s arms. “Missed ya, idjit.“

Dean laughed softly, only managing to produce an odd sound afterwards. He broke away from Bobby again and grinned at him. With Bobby, he could always be himself. “We’ve seen each other yesterday.“

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. At the same time, he grinned so broadly that you would have thought he had won the lottery. “You were saying?“

Then he turned toward the cottage, eyeing the building for some time, apparently lost in thought. Finally, a small smile crept onto Bobby’s face. Dean cleared his throat. “You think she would’ve liked the changes? All of this?“

Bobby turned back to him, his face now possessing a more serious but gentle expression. “Who do you mean? Karen or your mum?“  
Dean swallowed hard, swallowed again, sniffed. “Both.“  
Bobby smiled. “They would’ve loved this, boy. I mean it.“

Dean nodded, absorbed in his thoughts, thinking about Angel again, until a grumble from Bobby brought him back to the present. “Why the pining face? There something I should know?“  
Dean’s breath caught in his throat. Not embarrassed at all, not at all. He coughed. “Nope. All good. Let’s go.“  
“I ain’t believing ya, but ya know I’ll always be there for you.“

Dean nodded again and muttered an "I know“ that involved so much more than the simple fact that Bobby was trying to help him with a potential dating problem.

Immediately, he thought back to the day of his early de-registration. He had come home, closed the door behind him, and just cried for three hours. He had sat on the floor, his head turned toward the door, alternately looking back and forth between the door and the wall of the house over and over again, as if staring alone could offer him a way out of this misery. As if the future he had just thrown away was still visible in the fibers of the wood.

Eventually, he had lain down. His face pressed to the wooden floor, he had lost so many tears that he had finally fallen into a restless sleep. It was only the (loud) doorbell that had startled him. It had been Bobby, who had said nothing but looked at him. Bobby had thrust a beer into his hand and a leather notebook. “For all those thoughts,“ he had said.

And in the middle of the night they had carved their initials into the exact wall where Dean had sunk to the floor.

Nowadays, it was the place to remind him to not forget about his dreams although they were interrupted or rather on hold for now. Wood was patient.

The prospect of doing the really necessary renovations with friends motivated him, but he still didn’t break out into dances of enthusiasm.

“Mornin'. Glad you came.“

“Who could say no to pizza and beer?“ Garth interjected, and Dean laughed.  
“And here I thought you guys were helping me out of the goodness of your hearts. The sting runs deep.“

Theatrically, Dean clutched his chest and sank to the floor, securing the first laughs of the day. Good, his friends‘ motivation was there, they could get going. He glanced around.

Garth looked ten years younger in his old baggy sweater; his wife had worked the night shift the last two days and was still sleeping it off. She was going to join them in the early afternoon.

The sight of him made Dean snort. How could Garth look like he had slept 10 hours every damn day and had already worked out for three hours in the morning? His whole face was glowing, he looked vital and simply healthy. He was bursting with energy, which could only be good for them today.

Next to him, Dean always felt like a wet sack, even though he also exercised, but ate much more and slept less than Garth. He was lucky that his metabolism was so good.

“Where are our vulgaromat and his adorable better half?“ Not to mention the fabled friend of Andrea’s that Benny wanted him to meet. For which he was definitely not in the mood for.

“I don’t know, somewhere in the woods,“ Garth said, sounding more like a question. Dean groaned.

“Oh man, what are they up to?“ First Benny insisted for weeks that there was no way they could skip this great friends‘ day, and then he disappeared before it even started.

“I guess for a threesome, they’d want to stay a little more out of the limelight. And public nuisance is no picnic either, chilled genitals aside. From there, my best guess would be that they’re looking for the tools in the old shed.“ Garth said all this so calmly and matter-of-factly that he might as well have been talking about the weather. Never would you guess from his demeanor that he worked as a real estate marketer.

“Okay, I’ll play kindergarten teacher,“ Dean mumbled.

He handed Garth the front door key and set out to find the three of them. Deep into the woods he didn’t have to trudge because he could already hear Benny raising his voice. Slowly he approached the group, trying to make out what they were discussing.

Finally, he was close enough to hear Benny once again not letting his protective instincts get the better of him,

“Babe, now please be reasonable. I’m not going to let you carry three planks and a saw through the woods. Do you know how quickly you can get splinters from that?“  
“I’m wearing gloves, and besides, you can’t very well carry everything by yourself. You’re cute, but I can handle it.“

“She’s right, Benny. Maybe we should have waited for the others after all.“ The other woman’s voice sounded as clear as a bell, and as Dean stepped out from between the trees, he immediately saw that she was also quite cute. She had a medium-length bob that accentuated her cheekbones, and great long legs. Her snub nose was quite cute and her eyes seemed bright, although he missed something there.

“No need, I’ll give you a hand. Can’t risk you heroes starting another flower war. Drea, give me the things. In that case, I have to agree with your boyfriend, this isn’t for you, as many muscles as you have from dancing.“ He was already stretching out his arm, but then decided to be polite.

“Good morning, by the way.“ He grinned all over his face, kissed Andrea on the cheek who whispered softly, “You’re a master in diplomacy“ and gave Benny a quick hug.

Sure, he was the master in diplomacy. Not in this world.

Then he stopped in front of Drea’s friend. “Hi, I’m Dean.“ He extended his hand to her, liking her soft skin. “Congratulations, you’re right in the middle of insanity.“

She laughed and waved it off. “I’m Anna. Nice to meet you.“

She seemed a bit shy, but had a very friendly demeanor.

As they carried the work materials to the cottage, Benny also hissed a “Well?“ at him.  
“Cute,“ Dean whispered back so softly that hopefully the two women behind them couldn’t possibly understand.

“Me again," Benny cheered. “Why don’t you ask her to paint one of the rooms with you? Preferably the bedroom.“  
“Benny,“ Dean threatened. “Please don’t embarrass me, I really don’t need that right now.“  
“Oh brother, I know exactly what you could use. Uninhibited sex. At a volume that the old man at the other end of the street will definitely hear.“

“I’m not commenting on this now,“ Dean said quietly, lowering the planks a little to avoid hitting the tree branches.

“Don’t always act like talk about sex upsets you. I could quote a few things there.“  
“Don’t you dare, I’m warning you.“ Dean gasped, setting one of the huge boards down for a moment. Then he groaned, one of the boards having been poking him in the side the whole time.

“The sounds are going in a good direction,“ Benny deadpanned. “Fuck, how far away is your goddamn cottage? Ah, I hear hammering. Man, are they disciplined. Probably got the whole roof done by now.“

Soon Benny’s constant babbling turned into a pleasant background noise, like the sound of rain splashing or music playing but not really noticeable. Groaning, they threw everything on the floor, then walked towards the house together.

“The cottage has real charm,“ Anna said quietly, almost as if she didn’t want anyone to hear her.

Dean smiled. “Thanks, I hope we can add a little more charm here.“ Slowly, he turned to the side to get a better look at her. She had stopped in the doorway, seemingly undecided whether to follow Andrea or stay put.

“Dean! You go paint, the two musketeers have got it covered, we don’t need the third anymore.“ He could hear the laughter coming from Garth’s voice. Unbelievable how damn proud he was of his joke. Dean smirked and murmured to Anna that he would follow immediately. Then he lifted his head skyward and immediately spotted Garth and Bobby climbing around on the roof.

Apparently they had already systematically walked the roof, analyzing how much work was ahead of them. Dean was glad that Bobby was there, since he had learned roofing professionally, at least in his first apprenticeship.

Hiring a roofer would have cost him quite a bit of money after all, plus the next possible deadline was still far in the future. Fortunately, the whole roof did not have to be redone, although there were many tiles to be replaced or installed at all. Garth lay on his stomach and tried to clear off broken tiles.

He seemed to rely mostly on brute force in the process, cursing every few seconds as he jammed the pointy ends into his elbows. But Dean had no doubt they would make good progress. Only once the tiles were removed could they begin the battening down. Bobby stood up beside him and accepted the tiles Garth handed him.

By now he seemed to have gotten the general idea, too, because he nodded with satisfaction and then climbed down the ladder as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “If we keep at it, we’ll be done by tonight. I guess we can leave two-thirds of the tiles in. The condition is nowhere near as bad as you described.“ He patted Dean’s shoulder encouragingly, then climbed onto the huge pile of tiles and began sorting. “I can tell I’m not needed here.“

“Yup, you’re a scallywag. Been trying to tell you that for 10 years,“ Bobby said, laughing. Dean grumbled and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know where you’ve been hiding the laughing gas, but you should stop doing that. I can’t take that much silliness for one day.“ He grumbled the last words to himself as he ran inside.

With all the foil, tarps, and masking tape more than generously applied, he barely recognized his cottage. The old building no longer exuded any coziness at all; instead, his favorite place seemed so sterile at the moment that he would have preferred to flee. Maybe that’s why he had put off renovating for so long. Because he was afraid of finally fulfilling his dream and arriving here permanently. To feel at home. By now, the cottage had become a part of himself.

A smile flitted across Dean’s face. Maybe by renovating the house at the same time, he could fix himself. In a way.

Apparently, somebody had already turned on the radio since music was audible everywhere. In the living room he met Anna again, who shook her head in amusement. Maybe a little flirting would do him some good, he needed to get his mind off things. Dean poked her lightly in the side, whereupon she flinched briefly, but then actually poked back. Facebook in real life. Terrific.

“Laughter is known to be extremely healthy. Wanna share?“  
“Oh, I don’t know.“ She swayed from one foot to the other.  
Curious now, he raised an eyebrow. “Well, come on. If it’s good, maybe I’ll return the favor.“

What the hell was he talking about here? No sooner did he make another effort at flirtation than he overshot. All that was missing was for him to tell her what body part he could return the favor with.

“You and Benny are very close friends, I can totally tell. And I like him too, I mean, he and Andrea have been a couple for twice as long as we’ve known each other. And we hang out together more often, the three of us go to the movies and things like that. But he’s so... dumb sometimes.“

Anna laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder so sensuously that he stumbled. Suddenly, she was much more confident than he’d first categorized her.

“Sometimes?“ Dean echoed doubtfully. “You’re too good on him.“ He winked and put an arm around her shoulders.

Oh, for Christ’s sake. No sooner was autumn around the corner than he was obviously going crazy. At least Anna didn’t seem to have a problem with his sudden touch.

“He just piggybacked Andrea and carried her up the stairs with Amerindian howls. As soon as they were at the top, he sang. _What if we rewrite the stars_...“ she burst out. She sounded so incredulous at that, still trying to control her voice.

“Mm, that is indeed a first,“ Dean replied dryly, annoyed that he had not been present. A vocal performance from a musical movie, that was new. Instantly, he had an earworm.

“You should have done a livestream. His colleagues would have been hounding him for weeks. Probably his next project would have been a giant tipi.“ Anna laughed out loud.  
“Okay, that one was bad,“ Dean relented, while simultaneously Anna interjected, “Maybe he’ll go to the stake as punishment.“

Humorous she was, he had to admit. Still laughing, he bent down to pick up two paint buckets, rollers and smocks. “I see you know the craft connections inside and out.“ Dean glanced over his shoulder, catching Anna wincing in surprise. Interesting. She’d been looking at his ass.

“This qualifies you to be my painting accomplice.“ He offered her his arm, and she tucked her arm into his with a smile.

While Dean turned his attention to the largest living room wall, he thought about Benny’s words on the phone a few days ago.

“You know this is some kind of dome action from our dear friends?“ he asked casually at one point.

“I was thinking something like that. Which I don’t have a problem with now either.“ She said that very relaxed, a bit too indifferent for his taste. Did she even want to be here?

“Enthusiasm sounds different,“ Dean said straightforwardly.

She dropped her roller in shock. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that I’ve only been separated for a month.“

Awesome. Benny had studiously left that unmentioned.  
“I see,“ Dean replied, not knowing what to say next. Failed relationships were not among his favorite topics. As they probably were for 80% of the world’s relationship-capable population.

“I broke up with him.“ Then she looked at him sweetly, putting her hand on his left upper arm. He didn’t like this situation. Somehow the conversation developed rapidly in a very intimate direction. Why did that bother him so much?

Probably because it felt so cramped, and besides, Anna was a pretty woman, but he couldn’t really get excited about her. Not the way he should.

In the background he heard a slow song which kinda sounded familiar, but he ignored the feeling until he felt like somebody had punched him.

“ _I’ll find some peace tonight_  
 _In the arms of the angel_  
 _Fly away from here_ “

What the hell. Someone really hated him today. Dean sighed, putting a distance between Anna and him again.

Suddenly, his cell phone vibrated on the table, and he glanced at it. Actually, he was fucking staring at his smartphone which had informed him about a new message from AngelMuses.

Oh.

This was not good, he was way too happy about it.

Apparently he’d lost control of the corners of his mouth now, because they kept darting upward no matter how hard he fought it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Words can be like X-rays if you use them properly - they’ll go through anything. You read and you’re pierced." - Aldous Huxley, Brave New World
> 
> The song Benny has sung and Anna refers to: "Rewrite the Stars" from The Greatest Showman (performed by Zach Efron and Zendaya) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yO28Z5_Eyls)
> 
> The song Dean freaks out over in the end: "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1GmxMTwUgs)
> 
> I intend to upload the next chapter soon (hopefully later today) since it's an immediate continuation from this one. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)


	8. Melting the snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 8! :) Have I mentioned Dean can be a dumbass (affectionate) from time to time? No? Well. Let’s have more chaotic energy, right? :D 
> 
> This one’s partly angsty because John makes a short appearance (hence: warning for mentioned abandonment/abusive behavior). Sorry about that, but in this fic there are some things which need to be resolved (for Dean and Cas). 
> 
> Other than that Dean is slowly losing his mind. :D

**Dean**

It was only a message, one damn message. Again, Dean took a deep breath, remembering that he was actually talking to a pretty woman.  
“But do you even want to...go looking for a man?“ Depending on the woman, his comment could quickly go down the wrong way.  
“They also call me the siren.“

Holy shit. Benny had introduced him to an “affair chick“ as Benny affectionately called such women. According to Benny, they presented their charms all too blatantly and sat on every cock that jumped out at them. A woman who jumped from one affair to the next. The saying “still waters run deep“ suddenly took on a whole new dimension.

“Okay, I kind of completely misjudged you,“ it now blurted out of Dean. “You’ll just take what you want, won’t you?“ he added nonsensically, starting to drink.  
“Or let someone take me, I’m not so strict about that.“ Dean spat out his water in a high arc. Gradually he understood why Benny liked the girl. She was almost as vulgar as his friend.

On the one hand, a perky woman was just what he might need, but on the other hand, she was so not his type at all. Much too brisk, much too innocuous, much too indifferent. She was looking more for the thrill, always the absolute orgasm, the next sweaty body under or on top of her.

Still, he couldn’t help thinking exactly that. “I don’t think I’ve ever been asked about sex so directly outside a bar.“  
“Is that good or bad?“

“That depends,“ Dean awkwardly evaded her. With his paint roller, he chaotically moved his arms and painted messy patterns on the tarpaulin.

“On what, sweetie?“ Holy shit, she really was a siren. Depends on whether you don’t mind that my thoughts are currently all about a guy I don’t actually know at all, but kinda also know frigging well, Dean thought. “There is someone...“ he said in a firm voice.

“The one you’d most like to bang out of all of them?“

Um. Yes, maybe. Way, way too early to even consider that. Also, not only sex, that was stuff for an undefined point in the future. Late at night, he had maybe thought about kissing Angel. Hypothetically. Walking with him, just talking. He’d even wipe tomato sauce out of the corners of his mouth. And all because he had such a unique way of writing that was already stirring him up permanently.

Whatever that meant.

“I can see that, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’m not interested. I’ve got a guy there who I’ve probably had a hopeless crush on for three years. But I don’t want to be banned from having fun.“

Again, that was more in line with the image he had gained of her in the beginning. Being unhappily in love was awful, especially when it had been going on as long as it had with her. No wonder that at some point she didn’t want to sink into self-pity anymore, but at least wanted to do something good for her body.

“You’re not exactly my type either. You’re too down to earth and too broody. Such a pining aura, I suppose.“ Anna shrugged and Dean frowned.  
“No one’s ever told me that, either.“

“I’m more into guys who feel a sadness about everything and everyone. Who want to scream their protest so loud that everyone gets scared of them.“ Dean must have widened his eyes quite a bit because Anna was grinning broadly at him.

“Now don’t look like that. I’m not a goth girl. There’s just something wicked about it that totally turns me on.“

Snorting, Dean shook his head, and they painted the rest of the room without much exchange of words.

To end the day, they all went to a pub together in the evening. Somehow Dean and Anna had quietly agreed not to do anything with each other. Inwardly, he knew that his mind was not on the matter anyway.

What was wrong with him?

Couldn’t he even have a normal one-night stand anymore without thinking about a stranger from the Internet? Apparently not, an inner voice commented unasked. Dean shook off his thoughts and put on his brightest smile. He hadn’t joined the conversation for a few minutes; as tonight’s host, it was time to be on his best behavior again.

“Who’s up for a round of beers?“ he called out as enthusiastically as he could. The evening took its course, the conversations became more heated, and Dean finally felt detached again. Still, he felt a pang of paranoia every few minutes. Then his curiosity won out, and he read the damn message.

“ _Hello RambleOnIm67. Thank you for your motivation, this certainly made me smile. I only wanted to clarify that I genuinely enjoy our conversation and I would like to deepen and continue it, even if we cannot flirt anymore._

 _Nonetheless, I don’t want to anger your girlfriend. Maybe it would be wise for me to not write you anymore. 'Homo sum. Humani nil a me alienum puto.‘ Terence wrote. And yes, it seems confusion and disappointment belong to my human nature as well. AngelMuses._ “

What? Dean quickly put his phone away, while his head was spinning. A girlfriend? What made the other guy think that? He needed to know what he had written that was so damn stupid that the other drew such conclusions, but he couldn’t do any analysis of his own message at the moment. Damn.

“Dean, what’s wrong?“ Benny asked him when they were on their third game of darts.  
“Nothing.“ He realized the issue wasn’t over with his curt answer. With a little too much force, he threw his dart, which stuck on the outside edge.

If he kept this up, he would probably accidentally poke someone else’s eye out. Benny snorted playfully, and Dean wondered how his friend was able to produce such sounds.

“My ass. You look like total shit, haven’t cracked a stupid line yet, and you’ve been sipping your water for three hours. Tell me about it!“ Impatiently, he pointed to the table, and they sat down again. One of Benny’s best, sometimes most exhausting, qualities was that he had to talk about everything. He discussed problems directly; he vehemently rejected methods of suppression.

The bad thing was that Benny flipped a switch on Dean. He only talked to Garth about intimate topics when everything was really going down the drain, and he felt absolutely helpless. But often Garth saw through him that way, too. Just like Benny.

The best thing about their friendship was that they were so different and thus complemented each other so well. Benny needed someone to rein him in now and then, but also to support him in his sometimes insane ideas.

Again, Dean could just be stupid with Benny, and also vent his anger unfiltered for once. “There’s nothing to tell. Just a little annoyed because I’m not making as much progress with the cars as I’d hoped.“

“You can do it, dude. You’ve got this figured out. Take your mind off it. Get some exercise, get laid.“

Dean growled. “Did you check with Charlie? She’s already started on that subject, too. To hear you guys talk, you’d think fucking is the solution to everything.“  
“We just want what’s best for you. And women are great creatures.“ Or men, Dean thought to himself.

“And the most wonderful creature is Andrea, I know.“ Dean laughed lustily and fiddled with the coaster. “I just don’t want to think too much right now, that’s all.“

“So you’re avoiding your problem and yourself,“ Benny summarized. “Good tactic! Always worked so well for you, the running away.“ Firmly, Benny pressed his cigarette to the bottom of the ashtray.

Again Dean rolled his eyes and took a sip of water, which by now was barely carbonated. “I guess that was a totally different situation, huh?“

Benny gave him a punishing look, and Dean knew he was overreacting. The evening was supposed to distract him from his anger at himself and bad decisions, but instead he was thinking about that very thing again.

“Now tell me what’s really going on. Anna and you were literally jumping on each other. And now she’s standing at the back of the bar digging some other guy.“  
Again, the term “siren“ came to Dean’s mind, as Anna seemed to live up to her nickname. It was probably for the best that they hadn’t started anything together.

On the other hand, he could use the distraction right now. “Benny, you’ve got me all figured out, as usual.“ Dean sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, there’s more, but trust me, today and here is definitely not the time to talk about it.“

With that, he looked meaningfully at Benny, hoping the latter would leave the subject alone. “All right.“

Full of skepticism, Dean looked at his friend. “You’re going to settle for that lame explanation? Are you sick?“ He received a snort in response.

“Oh, I know it’s about a woman, no wait, a guy. And believe me, I’m going to call you penetratingly in the next few days, and if need be, I’m going to be at your doorstep until you tell me which guy has turned your fucking head like that.“

Hastily, Dean looked around, not wanting at all to soon be pestered by all his friends and acquaintances. Benny was pretty drunk, it didn’t take much, and he’d be warbling loudly that he was mourning some ominous guy. Which, of course, he wasn’t. He needed a counter-maneuver, something that would quickly and irrevocably steer the topic away from Angel.

Finally, he realized that only an idiotic action would help. He chugged a shot and went to the bar. Someone, naming Benny, considered himself funny because he had wished for a song a few minutes back, and hence _Sexual Healing_ sounded from the loudspeakers. How was this his life?

He paused briefly, then stretched his back and shoulders as he had often done in the past. After clearing his throat and giving him a withering look, the guy immediately evaporated.

Anna smiled jauntily at him, licking her lips. “That, my dear, was just sexy as hell.“

Oh, he would regret that action. But who cared about his mind now? Without many words, they walked into the courtyard. Skillfully pushing her against the wall, Dean grinned and leaned forward, eager to show her his skills. She smiled perkily again, and he licked his lips. Just at that moment, his cell phone rang.

Cursing, he reached for the device, wincing briefly as he looked at the display. Dad. Fuck, that was all he needed.

“Excuse me for a sec. Have to get that,“ Dean muttered.  
“Are you in a bar?“ his dad asked immediately, without greeting him. A cold shiver ran down Dean’s spine. He was freezing. His body trembled. Although it was a mild night, he froze as if he was actually covered with snow.

Dean couldn’t believe him. Fuck. He didn’t have the nerve to do this right now.  
“Dad what do you want?“ he barked. Then he paused. “Is- Sammy’s okay, right?“

“Yes, he’s fine,“ came his father’s impassive voice whereupon Dean let out a long breath. Sammy was good, that was all that mattered right now. Dean heard an exasperated snort, and Dean knew for a fact that this didn’t suit his father. That he was enjoying himself for a change, just like John always did.

“’Kay, then. Shoot 'cause I’m kinda in the middle of something here.“ He winced at his words, trying to ignore the fact he wasn’t really into this thing with Anna.

“I’m not sure you have understood the gravity of the situation. Proceeding the way they have suggested could always be a risk.“

“Oh I’m damn well aware,“ Dean returned without hesitation. “Have been for months. I mean-“ He paused and suddenly, he felt so angry. “Screw this. I mean, maybe that’s too much to ask. Wanting to have a life of my own. It’s not that I already dropped out of college because you-“  
“You know I support him. I’m doing the best-“

“No, you’re not,“ Dean shouted now, and some bystanders looked at him strangely. He hissed softly, and moved far enough away from the bar that he came to a stop on the street. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the neon sign of a club, which triggered something in him.

“Dean, stop yelling at me like this,“ his father ordered, and Dean hated, hated that reprimanding tone more than anything. “You’re childish again!“

Dean hissed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, right.“ Fuck you, he thought. Fuck you. “Childish. You’re so frigging funny sometimes, hilarious even. I dunno if you’ve noticed but I’ve never been that. An actual child!“

“I didn’t call you to lead this kind of conversation. This is your responsibility, son, and-“  
“Stop it! Just shut up! It’s not my fucking fault,“ Dean repeated the sentence that he had probably said more often than any other in the last few months. It was burned into his throat like a brand mark.

His breath came only intermittently, and he wanted to leave, he had to leave. Dammit, he needed a pause to calm down, two damn minutes to be fine again, to not feel like a tornado was whipping his body.

Dean couldn’t stand it anymore, having the same conversations over and over. Again and again feeling the guilt, again and again suffering from the pain. He wanted to disappear from his body, wished he could just vanish like a ghost. “Just tell me what you want.“

His dad didn’t say anything. Total silence. Dean froze even more, shivering, almost losing grip of his phone.

“It’s the end of the month,“ his dad only replied after what had felt like an eternity, and Dean would’ve liked to punch a wall right now.

Seriously, what had he ever done to deserve this?

Nevertheless, at that moment he did not feel as helpless and at the mercy of the other as he usually did; instead, pure defiance rose in him.

“Right. The money. How could I forget? Thank you so much for reminding me. I mean, wow, you’re so fucking helpful.“ An angry rumbling sound rose in his throat, and he didn’t care that it could probably be heard within a hundred yard’s distance.

“Dammit, dad. I’ve never forgotten. Not once. I’m doing everything. I work 12 to 16 hours a day, even on the weekends sometimes. I’ve barely slept for more than half a year, at least I visit him often, although he lives several hundred miles away.“ Dean yelled now, not caring anymore.  
“And you? Yeah, you call. Awesome. Really, you need a fucking award for that.“

“Dean.“ Again this reprimanding tone and now the measure was full.  
“You know what?“ Dean groaned, ignoring the trembling in his body and the frigging migraine which was announcing itself. “I’ll take care of the money. Have a- well, have just a night, actually. You don’t give me good ones either. Say hi to your other family.“ Better family, he added in thought. “I think I’m gonna charm someone tonight. Bye.“

With that, he simply hung up. Breathed. Damn, it had felt good not to say woman out of reflex. He sank to the floor, right in the middle of the street. No cars around here.

He really couldn’t go back in there, and he definitely wouldn’t hook up with Anna. Spending one meaningless night with her would feel as shallow as his mask he’d to put on often enough.

His father’s echoing words still cut into his skin like the icy wind in the mountains back then. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, about how he kept going down new paths only to end up at the same point.

Running through the woods again and again, knees aching, bleeding wound in his side, fortunately not too deep, but the movement always started the bleeding again. He shouted, echoing in the mountains, looking for their hut, but he got deeper and deeper into the thicket of trees. Until it became dark, so dark.

And then, fucking finally, he reached the cabin door, pounding on the wood, not feeling his fingers any longer. His fear clutching his throat so that no more words came out. Then, for a moment, he found his voice again. Hoarse, breaking. “Dad, it’s me. Little help here.“

The door never opened. He waited and waited and waited. Shivering, screaming, raspy breath. He heard howling, wolves and the wind. And he waited. So long. Eventually, he crashed a window, shattering the glass. Inflicting more wounds.

No, not today, Dean told himself. For a few minutes he calmed himself, singing _Stairway to Heaven_ in his head. Humming. Breathing. Humming. Breathing. Letting some tears out. Kneading his fingers until they didn’t shake anymore. Yeah, he was okay. His dad wasn’t here. He was strong enough to do this.

Finally, he stuffed the cell phone deep into his jacket pocket, as if he wanted to bury it there. As he did so, his hand brushed a piece of paper. Frowning, Dean reached for it, quickly recognizing the flyer for the party Gabriel had given him in the car store.

The party was today. Besides, it was the club with the neon sign, he had just passed. _Loki’s Den_. He shook his head. Yeah, he wasn’t exactly in the best mood anymore, so maybe a party wasn’t the smoothest idea right now.

Still, he had to figure out the meaning of Angel’s message.

Somewhere beside him, a drunken guy ran through the streets, yelling something over and over. No, he wasn’t yelling, Dean noticed. The man was singing, or more specifically, he was attempting to sing. The stupid Justin Bieber song. Oh dear Lord, he wasn’t spared anything today.

" _And I was like baby, baby, baby, oh_  
 _Like baby, baby, baby, NOO!_ “

Dean stretched his head back, but still could not make out the source of the ear torture. Only the voice, the voice sounded more tortured and whiny. Oh, damn.

The guy was getting louder by the second, repeatedly singing this ridiculous refrain and putting all those crazy emotions in it as if he was singing to an actual woman. This right here was comedy, it had to be.

" _BABY, baby, baby, OHHH!_ “

And then Dean’s overly functional brain rattled and made some long-awaited connections.

Oh. Oh. Ohhh!

Holy shit.

Baby!! Dean had never actually told Angel that he called his car Baby. Fuck. He was such a dumbass.

Gasping, he grabbed his phone out of his jacket again, opened the stupid Geekatism app. Licking his lips he quickly wrote another message.

" _DAMMIT, Angel! No girlfriend!!! Baby is my car. Chevy Impala 67, see my username. I repeat: No girlfriend! Operation flirting: reactivated. Hey, adorable dumbass, I swear to god, you better read this asap._ “

He pressed send, and a few seconds later his stupid battery died. Sure, what else. He sighed, putting the phone away. At least he had figured this out, and Angel would answer him. Dean really wanted to read a new message from him. Another long message.

While thinking of this prospect, his whole body felt so warm. He felt his cheeks reddening, and he grinned like a Cheshire cat. Warmness, almost heat.

Fuck, Dean practically craved for the next message, but maybe he should get into a socially acceptable behavior again. Which meant not sitting on the street in the middle of the night. He stretched his body and rose. As soon as he stood again, he was bumped from the side.

“Excuse me,“ someone said, and Dean immediately felt goosebumps all over his body. Oh damn, he knew that voice. The trench coat guy. Mr. Gorgeous Blue Eyes.

Oh.

Although he was currently only visible from behind, Dean was sure.

Instantly, Dean’s heart beat faster. He thought of the eyes, the eyes that had pulled the rug out from under him, that had melted him and that he had even dreamed about.

He still felt the anger at his father inside him, his helplessness, his will to finally forget, to do something other than what was expected of him, than what he imposed on himself.

And of course, the ineffable earworm came back again.

“ _So why don’t we rewrite the stars?_  
 _Maybe the world could be ours_  
 _Tonight_ “

Unbelievable, his mind could get so sappy sometimes. In any case, Blue Eyes had a crazy speed on him, almost as if he was flying, had meanwhile arrived at the top of the queue.

Apparently, he had good connections to the bouncers because he was let in immediately.

Yeah, okay, fine, Dean was so going in there now. He wouldn’t attempt to flirt with the guy another time (probably), but he really wanted to see these ridiculous blue eyes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote from Cas's message: "Homo sum. Humani nil a me alienum puto"  
> Translation: "I am human, and I think nothing human is alien to me." from the play "Heauton Timorumenos" by Terence
> 
> Referenced songs:
> 
> "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjlSiASsUIs)
> 
> "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin
> 
> "Baby" by Justin Bieber (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kffacxfA7G4) 
> 
> "Rewrite the Stars" from The Greatest Showman. - I just had to use this there. :D 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)


	9. Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 9. This has gotten way out of hand, but I have zero regrets. :D Let’s have some bickering, ignorance of personal space, awkwardness and flirting before we dive into their online identities again :D
> 
> I don't want to give away too much, but I suggest listening (at least) to the last song mentioned in this chapter. :)
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Castiel**

The night rippled with delight, the air pulsated, the whole room resembled a bubbling and fresh spring. Clubbers swirled across the dance floor, the vibrating bass and the tap of shoe soles forming their own symphony.

Castiel, meanwhile, watched the spectacle from a safe distance, sitting on a sofa. Two women on the sofa next to him immediately went into full swing, sinking into the cushion, smooching. Like a moth and a lamp, their tongues found each other again and again. Slowly, what was happening between them was no longer G-rated. They rose. A few moments later, the women were gone and would have no deep conversations.

Castiel sighed and took a hearty swig from his Cuba libre. Meanwhile, a drunken man staggered by with three drinks right next to him - and what had to happen happened. Some liquid spilled over during his swaying gait and flew precisely in Castiel’s direction. His shirt was damp. At least it wasn’t sticking and there were no other noticeable stains.

Castiel sighed again. The last hour had not gone to his liking. He looked at the clock on the wall. Gabriel had insisted on coming to his party, literally begged him to accompany him, and already he was gone, going about his business. Whatever that meant. This was not how he had imagined it.

"I hope the short-haired one knows a good dentist. She’s going to have jaw pain tomorrow.“

This unusual remark made Castiel look up. A man with brown hair, a stubble and very sensual lips was leaning against a pillar directly across from the sofa with his arms folded in front of his chest.

Castiel’s gaze immediately met green eyes that twinkled with amusement. Had the man been watching him for the last few minutes or so? His muscular upper arms were shown off to great advantage by the short-sleeved blue shirt, Castiel noted.

He was unquestionably attractive and somehow looked familiar to Castiel. They had met before, definitely. How did they know each other?

"Not just jaw pain if this keeps up,“ Castiel replied dryly, turning his attention back to his drink. The man coughed and took a sip from his beer bottle which was placed on a table beside him. "Maybe a little too much information.“ An audacious smirk played around his lips.  
"You’re in my seat, by the way.“

Castiel looked up, but didn’t answer him. The other man was very attractive, his only bad luck was that Castiel was not in a good mood today. He was still frustrated by the situation with RambleOnIm67.

"You’re sitting in my seat,“ the other man tried again, this time a little louder but still amused. "I understood you the first time,“ Castiel replied shortly, sipping his drink. "So, what are ya waiting for?“ he growled, continuing to smirk at him. That mischievous grin.

With a deadly serious expression, Castiel first looked over his shoulder, lifted two pillows, and then bent down toward the ground. "This seat doesn’t look reserved, nor is there a name engraved anywhere here. So, I’m afraid your claim to a seat has little rhyme or reason.“

The man hummed, shrugged, and then dropped next to him. "What’s it going to be when it’s done?“ Castiel demonstratively moved a bit away from him. "Men can stay away from me today.“

"No worries, I won’t jump at ya, buddy. Unless ya ask me to.“ He had a lot of nerve. Didn’t he realize he wasn’t in the mood for socializing right now? "I just wanna empty my drink.“  
Castiel was too upset to think rationally. It didn’t matter to him heartily that there could well have been room for two more people on the sofa.

"And you can’t do that somewhere else?“ To punctuate his words, Castiel rolled his eyes. The man hummed, apparently his favorite sound.  
"The whole club is completely overcrowded.“ He pointed around the room, and he was right. It was still packed. "You do have eyes, don’t ya?“ he followed up.

What a stupid question! This man was irritating. "Are you making fun of me?“ He would have preferred to yell at him, but that would be overdoing it. Not that anyone else would call the police.

"Nah, I’m really interested.“ Couldn’t he keep his mouth shut for once? Castiel looked back and forth between the guy and the beer in his hand. Maybe he was drunk. That would explain why he was undeterred by his grumpiness.

Faced with Castiel’s puzzled expression, the man paused briefly. "Dammit, of course I ain’t serious. You’re not one to talk out of turn, are you? So, I take it you don’t just have good genes when it comes to your looks.“

Castiel tapped his forehead with his finger. "If you want to talk biology with anyone, just find another victim.“

"About biology and psychology, you mean.“ His voice continued to be a mixture of tranquility and irony. Castiel, on the other hand, was seething and too stubborn to vacate his seat now. After all, his evening was already ruined, he had two drinks left, and he needed to distract himself. "Okay, but keep your distance.“

"You’re still barking at me,“ the guy stated meaningfully.  
"Is that so? Well, if you weren’t talking at me all the time, I wouldn’t have to talk at all. How about this?“

"Agreed,“ he replied, as if Castiel seriously expected an answer to this question. He obviously belonged to the mischievous sort of man, assumed to draw him out with a few snappy remarks. Castiel drank a few sips and pondered over the last few hours.

The man, whose name he did not know, was now silent. This pleased Castiel on the one hand, but also annoyed him somewhat. Their war of words was just beginning to amuse him. "Did you swallow your tongue?“

The man simply growled.

"Well come on, apparently we can both use distraction,“ he struck a conciliatory tone. Again, only a grumble followed. "Can you do anything else besides constantly answering with a hum?“

The alcohol was showing. Slowly but surely, Castiel’s mouth was faster than his mind.

"Can you do anything other than literally hiss at me?“ Touché. "I get it now. You're strong. If anything, you’re laying the guy and not the other way around.“

Castiel spat a gulp of Cuba libre in a wide arc from himself, and drew in a sharp breath. Strong - this was not exactly the adjective that first came to mind describing his nature. Headstrong was more likely to hit the nail on the head.

"You’re very much focused on the matters of sexual intercourse, though. I wonder what conclusions that allows one to draw about your character.“ Castiel leaned back a bit on the sofa and sipped his cocktail extra loudly and conspicuously until the glass was empty.

Acting so over-the-top would not have occurred to him under normal circumstances; on the other hand, extraordinary was exactly what was capable of lifting his spirits.

The man shrugged, nodding at him with a wry grin. He had many freckles, Castiel noticed. Kind of cute.

"First of all, you are devastatingly handsome. And such a frigging tease.“ Castiel felt hot at his casual comment, immediately noticing the heat rising in his cheeks. During his statement, the man’s eyes had once again flitted over his body, making him feel far too much the center of attention.

Castiel shook his head with a laugh, unable to comprehend what exactly was abnormal or even too provocative about his outfit.

Finally, Castiel looked at him mockingly, uttering the first statement that came to mind. "I wouldn’t have thought you were such a prude. Have you never seen a man in a form-fitting shirt before?“ His mood lifted a bit because he had rarely had such an absurd but amusing conversation.

If he was honest with himself, he anticipated every rejoinder to his statements with some anticipation. The whole situation was developing in a direction that unsettled him and threw his usual mannerisms out the window.

"No, I live on the moon, as you know, humans are establishing a civilization there recently.“ The man was always either being ironic or taciturn, there seemed to be nothing in between. Then, he ran a hand through his hair, set his bottle on the table, then pointed at Castiel. "Your shirt is wet.“

Castiel snorted. "You don’t say.“ Again, he had to laugh as the other continued to eye him, not lustfully, but inquiringly and curiously.

The man managed to make him laugh, something that had long since earned him Brownie points without Castiel being able to do much about it. For the next ten seconds, the other didn’t move his eyes an inch, only stared at him, but then averted his gaze at last.

Castiel should not maneuver himself into an uncontrollable scenario. Normally men couldn’t draw him out, this guy managed it easily and also got him to try the same on him. "I bet you’re always buttering people up around here and dragging them into your den of thieves.“

"Yeah, I’m known for my harem, the story even made it to US weekly a while back,“ he replied nonchalantly. How he could look so expressionless at this comment was beyond Castiel; he himself would probably have had to laugh at himself.

"Tell me one thing, pal,“ the mysterious man said. He put an arm across the back of the couch and leaned closer in his direction. "If I am indeed as you claim - then why the heck am I still talking to you? By your logic, I should’ve at least two other guys wrapped around my finger by now.“ That was a good question, a question to which Castiel had no glib answer prepared.

Then finally, after a few not-so-spontaneous seconds, during which a strange tingling sensation like a roller coaster ride had spread through his stomach, it occurred to him - the appropriate retort.

"One of your friends is secretly filming us, and you have a bet going on how long it will take you to successfully glamour me.“

The man’s lips curled, and he chuckled. "You’ve been racking your brain for that now? I can think of more useful occupations. Both verbal and horizontal.“

He wiggled his eyebrows, a facial expression he had practiced. By now, at the latest, Castiel was firmly convinced that the man could seduce his counterpart if he put his mind to it. Contrary to his initial impression, he was not as crude as other men, but possessed wit and intelligence. Now he smiled, engagingly and without mockery.

Was he flirting with him? And why did that smile seem so familiar? Castiel was not used to being wooed in a charming, if direct, way.

"And I know frontal ones for emergencies.“ Demonstratively, Castiel sent a glance to the other’s groin, then nodded toward his shoes. Defense was ultimately the only response Castiel had internalized and mastered in his sleep.

"I’ll gladly take that risk.“ The man continued smiling, and Castiel didn’t know how to deal with the way his eyes twinkled with amusement and adventure. He liked that expression. He wasn’t allowed to have that. And he certainly wasn’t allowed to notice any of it.

"I suppose, you can have your couch back.“ Castiel jumped to his feet, ignoring his balance problems. He put his hands on his hips and then stood directly in front of the other’s legs. Then, he bent down and engaged in a staring duel with him.

Had his eyes been this incredibly green all along? His eyes weren’t simply green. Rather, they were a sparkling, intense emerald green. The most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen, actually.

And now he remembered the man.

It was the man from the supermarket who had run into him some time ago. Who had very sweetly invited him for a coffee, but Castiel had been so annoyed after the phone call with his mother that he had been in a tunnel.

Green Eyes ran his tongue over his lips, looking enormously manly. He swallowed and grinned mischievously again. "You gotta relax, pal.“  
Castiel took a step back and slipped. Stupid, still slippery ground. He heard a laugh, and only now realized he’d landed right on the other’s lap.

As in the supermarket, they rigorously ignored any kind of personal space.

Green Eyes laughed harder and harder, and his entire body vibrated. Castiel felt warm, and he became unusually comfortable around this stranger. Only now Castiel’s attention was not only on the extraordinary eyes. Castiel settled into a comfortable sitting position. A loud throat clearing sounded, and he suddenly sat stock-still.

"First you want to get away from me as soon as possible, and now we’re sitting here cuddling. You’re definitely one for surprises, huh?“ He grinned so flirtily that Castiel asked himself how he was able to be so confident.

Castiel tilted his head to the side, squinting his eyes. "Believe me, I’m a little confused right now.“ And it definitely wasn’t because of the alcohol. Sometimes he’d be grateful for a silent observer to give her sage advice now and then. A sort of human guide to situations where only canyons of question marks loomed before him. Presumably it would be a 24/7 job and, due to lack of pay, not desirable for 99 percent of people.

"That so?“ Green Eyes grinned and patted himself with one hand. Castiel snorted and shook his head in disbelief. The other tilted his head to the side, studying Castiel’s features as if he were a fascinating exhibit. "Yet you were so perfectly civilized and affable just now,“ the other remarked. "So now it throws me off a bit when you’re a little off your game.“

Castiel liked his irony and could even overlook the fact that it came out mostly when he was pulling Castiel’s leg.

"You smell good,“ Green Eyes murmured then, closing his eyes briefly - with relish. He looked at Castiel again, and Castiel was captivated by his eyes. What exactly were they doing here? Hadn’t he wanted to jump right back up?

His body no longer obeyed him, and to make matters worse, the man now put his arms around his waist, quite as if he wanted to keep him with him. He was very direct and showed his interest, and Castiel liked that.

"I remember you,“ Castiel finally said, trying to cover his unknown embarrassment. "You’re the man who bumped into me in the supermarket. You wanted to buy me coffee for crashing my groceries.“

The man grinned wryly, shrugging his shoulders. "Got me there. Wasn’t my best day. I did find you damn interesting, though.“ Castiel thought he saw a slight blush on the other’s face. Somehow the man’s direct manner held a fascination for him.

"Saw you here, recognized ya, figured I’ll give it another shot. I kinda had a big moment and revelation today, so I considered it a sign. No bad line hidden here, promise.“ He punctuated his words with another grin that gave Castiel goosebumps. The way the man looked at him went right through him.

"You’re peculiar,“ Castiel said, still bewildered, ignoring the involuntary thought of RambleOnIm67. Peculiar. He had written he thought of him when hearing or reading this word.

Meanwhile, Green Eyes winced, shook his head, and looked at him thoughtfully.

"Peculiar as in "Holy shit, this crazy motherfucker belongs in a loon bin“ or peculiar as in "Oh, I should find more about this mysterious stranger“? Because I sure as hell hope it’s the second one,“ the man mumbled in a much lower voice.

"Well, actually, you’re quite all right,“ Castiel said huskily.

"So, I’ll make you a proposition,“ the man said now. The fact that his eyes were twinkling so mischievously didn’t help his concentration. At what point had Castiel gone from the I-find-this-guy-annoying-phase to the make-mooneyes-at-him-mode? He was beyond help.

"I showed up here very spontaneously. And anyway, you’re the most interesting person here far and wide. And the way you look right now. Damn, I dunno you just have this Tony Stark in a navy-blue tee slash Colin Firth coming out of the lake vibe, at the moment." Castiel did not understand those references. The corners of the man’s mouth turned up.

Now Green Eyes carefully tousled through Castiel’s hair, very gently, as if he was afraid Castiel would reject him, and considering the unexpected tenderness Castiel felt a shiver all over his body. "And you think I’m all right, at least.“ He winked at him. "Shall we not make peace?“

Castiel averted his gaze. He wasn’t used to being called the most interesting person. He didn’t usually stand out, there were always louder people who knew better how to put themselves in the spotlight.

Too often, he slowed down, acting the way he was expected to, careful to remain controlled in everything he did. Since Castiel was genuinely pleased by his words, he strongly hoped that it hadn’t just been a stupid line from him. "Agreed,“ he finally said. "Maybe we should move to safer ground for this first.“

Castiel did not know what he wanted to achieve with his statement, but he had become unnaturally hot - and that was definitely not only due to the discussion.

Personal space, he reminded himself. Personal space could be his solution here. He needed more space although his body and mind told him to stay right there. On the lap of this stranger.

His breath fluttered, and he climbed down from him, as he hoped, not too clumsily. In the process, his legs tangled, and he stumbled until he came to a staggering halt. Again the guy laughed, and Castiel knew he hadn’t made an elegant exit. Castiel tried not to let on and grinned broadly at him. He winked and made a nodding motion of his head.

"Wanna dance?“ Green Eyes breathed. The newly ignited adrenaline made Castiel feel daring and direct.  
"Who says I dance anyway?“ Castiel grinned at him. "Maybe I’ll just sit here all evening, drinking and sulking.“ He probably would have done that if Green Eyes hadn’t shown up.

Green Eyes laughed, and his voice sounded low and throaty. "You don’t. I bet you’re good at dancing. If not – well, lemme show ya.“ A wink followed, and Castiel noted that he found even that interesting.

"So, whaddaya say?“ He held out his hand to him. What did he have to lose? Castiel should jump over his shadow. A little spontaneity did him good. Gabriel would be proud of him.

Also, Castiel really wanted to forget about his overwhelming and confusing feelings regarding RambleOnIm67 for a moment. Maybe approaching another man would help with that.

Castiel let him be pulled up and immediately found himself not half a meter away from his chest. Personal space was overrated or rather simply non-existent in the presence of this man, apparently. His eyes really were otherworldly. "Of course,“ he said.

The dancing was hot and passionate. Any other description would have been wrong. After the first songs which were more upbeat and faster like "Feel So Close" by Calvin Harris, their already small distance dissolved into thin air. Their thighs intertwined with each other as if of their own accord, and they moved to the beat of the music. It was a very tranquil, yet sensual song by this band, The xx, stirring him up with lines like " _When we touch I can’t get enough_ “.

Castiel closed his eyes, letting his body drift. With the next song, some remix of an earlier work by Depeche Mode, their bodies were pressed even closer to each other, their movements feeling so naturally.

As Dave Gahan sang " _I feel you, your precious soul, and I am whole_ “ so intimately, Castiel felt the other’s body even more acutely. They danced together for several songs, fast songs.

One song merged into the other just like their bodies did, and soon, Castiel lost all sense of time and space.

Then the tempo of the music slowed down, and as soon as the first notes of the next song could be heard, some people cheered.

The other now pressed up against him from behind and rested his hands on his waist. With his butt Castiel only nestled closer to his body. So close that no leaf would have fit between them. On the back of his neck Castiel felt his breath, warm as a foehn wind. Gentle and soothing.

They swayed back and forth as Green Eyes hummed to the sounds of the chorus. Deep, warm and honey-like, his voice sounded against Castiel’s skin. In doing so, his nose always brushed his neck and chin.

" _I’m gonna free fall out into nothin‘_  
_Gonna leave this world for a while_  
_And I’m free (free fallin‘, now I’m free fallin‘)_  
_Free fallin‘ (free fallin‘, now I’m free fallin‘)"_

Castiel’s body tingled with each breath that caressed his skin, and he let himself sink deep into the other’s arms. "I’m Dean, by the way,“ he murmured in his ear from behind, and Castiel automatically slid Dean’s fingers to his stomach. Dean. It could mean leader or valley. A grounded person. He liked that name.

"Castiel,“ Castiel called out to Dean, but his voice was completely lost in the volume of the music and the people singing and shouting. Faced with the cheering crowd, the song now played another time, and people only sang louder.

Sweaty bodies now came into contact from all sides, it was narrow and hot - and yet Castiel felt liberated. Free.

The longer they danced, the more the dance floor filled up. Dean spun him around once and again and again, grinning broadly at him, now showing his smile dimples.

With the lights of the club Dean’s entire face glowed, and his eyes looked even more beautiful. Little golden sprinkles carefully applied to these green emeralds. Castiel felt mesmerized.

Again, as if by magic, their bodies found a tight and fitting posture, falling freely into each other again, intertwined. Close, so close. Castiel felt happy, wrapping his arms around Dean's lower back now. 

Eventually, they mouthed the song’s lyrics at each other, faces only inches apart, whereby only smiling more openly with each word. 

People jostled more, trying to make room for themselves in a rude way. Chaos broke out, and their tight dancing posture was rudely interrupted. They scattered, still maintaining eye contact. Grinning at each other, never losing the other’s gaze. Then a few drunks mobbed around, running across the dance floor and literally making use of their elbows.

Suddenly, Dean was gone, just vanished. Where had he gone? Castiel tried to make sense of it all, only to be driven further away. For several minutes Castiel struggled through the crowd, but he had no chance.

Finally, his brother intercepted him and engaged him in conversation, introducing him to all sorts of people to top it off. Small talk, his favorite pastime and ideal when people skills were as rusty as his. When, after two hours, he finally started looking for Dean again, he already knew that it was in vain.

Now completely deprived of his desire for spending his evening in the club, Castiel picked up his coat and wrote a short message to Gabriel. Lost in thought, he took a bus to the university, hoping to find some peace there.

He had really enjoyed dancing with Dean, the man with the beautiful green eyes, the cute freckles, the contagious grin and the cheeky, yet intriguing demeanor.

Although it had not been Dean’s fault, it was unfortunate that this acquaintance had evaporated so quickly. Much like his conversation with RambleOnIm67. Castiel sighed, he had resolved not to ponder about the other anymore for today. He still wanted to answer him, yes, but he had to process his disappointment first.

He stopped briefly in the library to collect a few books. As he walked down the familiar hallway, he looked absently at the walls and doors, as if trying to find some lost meaning there. Then he paused.

What?

With narrowed eyes, Castiel stared at the large cork bulletin board where the student council was making announcements, people were offering tutoring, selling books, or the like. Directly in the middle hung a note, familiar paper from a notebook, containing a single, apparently hastily written sentence.

" _Angel, SHE is my frigging car!_ “

Oh.

Now, he understood.

Castiel carefully detached the note from the bulletin board, folded it and put it in the inside pocket of his trench coat, smiling.

Many thoughts flashed through Castiel’s mind at once. RambleOnIm67 had been here recently, in this exact place.

Castiel walked on, finding on more bulletin boards in the hallway and in the library itself a total of four more of these notes, each more illegible and crinkled than the other, each wonderful.

All notes contained the same message, just worded differently. And in every note the words "Angel" and "car" had been highlighted with a green marker pen, therefore the addressee, him, would see the relevant words immediately.

With each message Castiel found, understanding seeped deeper into his consciousness. RambleOnIm67 didn’t have a girlfriend, but apparently had a special bond with his car. That warmed his heart.

At the end, Castiel held the notes devoutly in his hand like little gems, pressed them to his chest and smiled.

Then he read them again, already knowing the contents by heart.

" _OVID SUCKS ASS!! Just kidding, but now that I got your attention: No frigging woman, Angel. Baby is my car._ “

" _Hiya, Angel. I am an idiot. Calling my car Baby. Funny, huh?_ “

" _ANGEL, LISTEN. Baby = my car!!_ “

The last note read, " _She is only my car. No significant other in my life, dork. I’d be willing to change that. ;-)_ “

Reading this note, Castiel laughed out loud every time. And then he laughed even more as he thought about another person finding those messages accidentally, probably thinking RambleOnIm67 was a lunatic. But for Castiel, this gesture, this moment was quite perfect. 

RambleOnIm67 wanted to write with him, in a non-platonic way. With him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced/quoted songs:
> 
> "Feel So Close“ by Calvin Harris (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGghkjpNCQ8)
> 
> "Do you mind" by The xx (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X0CXVjR9-vI&list=FLIK2hHJb9mJBrY-VAiXjJaA&index=1)
> 
> "I Feel You" by Depeche Mode (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iTKJ_itifQg)
> 
> "Free Fallin‘“ by Tom Petty (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1lWJXDG2i0A)  
> → I also enjoy this John Mayer live version a lot, it’s beautiful, but it’s more for the quiet hours, not for the club scene I had in mind for this fic :) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=20Ov0cDPZy8)
> 
> The next chapters will have much RambleOnIm67/AngelMuses action again. :D Long messages are coming. :) 
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	10. Lost and found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 10. :) This one is angsty. I’m sorry for that, but it’s necessary for Dean’s arc. It will get better, though. :)
> 
> I suggest listening to the songs appearing in this chapter - at the times they are mentioned. :)  
> I’ll also include them in the end notes.
> 
> Thank you for your support, it means so much to me! :) 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Dean**

"Don’t ya think you’ve had enough for today?“  
Dean looked up, glancing at the bartender, barely able to keep his eyes open. His surroundings were already blurring, but he shook his head. The whiskey had helped a little so far.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar tune, and almost vomited on the spot. In the background "Enter Sandman“ by Metallica had started playing.

"Nope, keep 'em coming,“ he quickly mumbled, vehemently ignoring the damn tune and the lyrics. The bartender eyed him critically, made a humming sound, and reached for the bourbon. In the end, perhaps he did care more about his sales than Dean’s well-being, and that could only be fine with Dean.

That night, Dean had started with beer, initially with the firm intention of just distracting himself, taking a break. But the beer had done nothing, had tasted stale in his mouth and only made him feel horrible. Gnawed at him more.

Still, he couldn’t leave. His home would be even worse right now, much too intimate, much too quiet to give him more poisoned thoughts. He also couldn’t see anybody tonight because he was too much on edge, too emotional, full of rage.

With the song, his negative feelings intensified. He really shouldn’t think about all those nightmares today. About Sammy; about dad, about mom, always mum; about his failures; about his weakness in general and about his fear of never finding peace. And wasn’t that just frigging perfect.

Now he thought about the fact he deserved the twisted never-never land from the song. Only this one.

Dean sat on the stool, feeling like a beast was ripping open his entire chest, clawing and tearing at his flesh until his heart would finally give up.

Frigging thoughts. Way too many, way too present, way too loud. Never did his damn brain shut up.

During his youth and especially his adulthood he had learned step by step to live with it. With all the ideas his brain developed. With the theories. With the questions that instead of answers only developed new questions. With the questions being sometimes answered only to transform into new, more complex questions once more.

He liked the way his brain worked, he had often benefited from it.

But not today, not today. Not on this godforsaken day.

Today he wanted to numb the thoughts, drown them, extinguish them, literally cauterize them from his body with the acrid alcohol that ran down his throat.

His head ached like hell, he didn’t know how many seatmates he had already driven away with his curses, which he uttered every few minutes.

Probably all the bar patrons thought he was a loser who drowned his self-doubt in alcohol because otherwise he couldn’t find happiness and redemption.

And yes, today, they were damn right about that. It was too much. All of it. He didn’t want to feel this, think this, do this. He didn’t want to be the strong one anymore, the one who straightened everything out, even though his own condition was so disastrous that it bordered on a miracle that he hadn’t long since returned to the hospital as he had been a few months ago.

Burnout. Dean had always succumbed to the misconception that such things only happened to the highest bosses, the rich snobs, the top managers, not to a nobody like him.

The bartender set the whiskey down in front of him. "Slow down a bit, dude. You might still be capable, but I don’t wanna bring you to the hospital later. All right?“

"Yeah,“ Dean said, taking two sips. He froze, feeling like he was sinking in a blizzard. "Could you turn on the heat?“ he asked, massaging his temples.  
"We’ve got 75 degrees in here,“ the bartender answered him with some skepticism in his voice.  
"Never mind,“ Dean replied, frantically rubbing his arms until he got a little warmer. Then he tapped away on his cell phone, sighing as he read Charlie’s fifth message of the day.

" _Marlin, I worry about you. Bobby said you left without a goodbye after work. What happened? No use in hiding in yourself, you know that._ “

Dean sighed and started typing a short reply, barely able to form a clear thought. Unfortunately, he couldn’t even blame this condition on the alcohol because he hadn’t drunk that much, no, it was just his damn brain that just wouldn’t give him a break.

Never rest. He didn’t want to think anymore, feel anymore, just for a few minutes.

He didn’t want to hear the voice in his head. Now, now, it scolded him. He didn’t want the other voice, his voice, shouting at him that he had done it again. That he had once again tried to make everything right, only to be reminded again that he was the biggest failure on this planet.

He sent the message.

" _Just family stuff. It’s gotten worse. Dad’s also an ass. The usual. Thank you, Dory, you’re the best. Will call ya later. Need some quiet._ “

Quiet. He was such a hypocrite.

On horrible days like this one (which didn’t happen too often, fortunately) he would always tell others he needed some time alone to think stuff through, only to realize just 20 minutes later he couldn’t stand himself.

Then, he would go out, to a bar, to either drink too much or to hit on somebody. The latter wouldn’t happen tonight, though, since he really wasn’t desiring some meaningless sex or making out or even kissing. No, he wouldn’t do that.

At least the song was finally coming to an end.

Dean took a deep breath, calming down a bit when listening to the tranquil sounds of "Dream On“ by Aerosmith. Yes, that song was much, much better to not lose his mind in this situation.

His cell phone vibrated. Had Charlie answered already? He thought she had another date today.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, checked the phone because he had nothing better to do than drowning in alcohol and thoughts anyway. No, it wasn’t Charlie.

A message from AngelMuses.

Dean made a sound between laughter and grumbling. Now, of all times.

In his condition, he shouldn’t read the message. He should save the message for a moment when he had his peace, when his brain wasn’t occupied by self-doubt, alcohol, despair, and anxiety.

But he was weak, so weak, and maybe he just wanted to feel something good for a moment, to remind himself that he wasn’t completely shattered yet.

**"October 3, 11:47 p.m.**   
**From: AngelMuses**

_Dear RambleOnIm67,_   
_I can hardly express in words how glad I am to have merely succumbed to a misunderstanding. I want to thank you for going out of your way to make me aware of this fact. Since I am not an app user, I was not able to read your message on Geekatism._

_Frankly, I was running away that day, from myself and my thoughts, and socializing. Although I was doing my brother a favor more than anything else in the process, I did enjoy myself that night. Very much so. Eventually, though, I ended up back in the library._

_Maybe it’s the fact that I always go the library when I’m feeling lost, preempting part of my answer, or maybe it was a sign. I found your notes, each one made me laugh and wonder, and they are all here with me now, in a safe place. Then at home I saw your message on Geekatism which made me smile a lot._

_At this point, therefore, I admit, with my knowledge of your supposed girlfriend, I have very much quibbled with myself, how to proceed, whether it is at all advisable to continue writing to you, when I so appreciate in particular the profundity of our conversations._

_Certainly, however, I can assure you that this is an aspect that is unique to me. The way we communicate, the fact that we open up so quickly to each other. Undoubtedly, this here - our getting to know each other - is special, at least to me, and from your involvement I can tell that it must be similar for you._

_As I’ve mentioned several times, I’m fascinated by the way you write. Now that we’ve both agreed that a flirty level is more than desirable, I’d like to add how deeply your words get under my skin. Despite my fear of crossing a line too soon with what follows, I would like to note that your words leave me with feelings of happiness and equally a kind of yearning. Every detail I learn about you leaves me with more wonderful questions._

_But I would like to try to respond to your message first. I am happy that you liked my message, and I write this without any ridicule. Exposing oneself with words, thoughts, feelings and even secrets like the stories about our sexual orientation can quickly create a kind of intimacy that puts off the other person._

_As I mentioned before, my people skills are not the best anyway, though I can firmly claim that my writing is still the path of communication that works best for me, that has always been in my blood, I would like to think._

_I am very sorry to hear that your relationship with your father is so fractured. I’m sorry to read that, it hurt me a lot. I hope I am not offending you when I say that your father does not define who you are, that he is not the one who decides whether you are good or bad, on the contrary._

_He obviously gives you a false image of yourself, the absolute worst image. By now I think my assumptions have hardened. Your anecdote about the deer stand confirmed my thoughts._

_Your father must have been the one who made you suffer so much in the past. Who obviously abused you, emotionally and perhaps (most likely) even physically. I am so sorry. You are caring and brilliant and certainly don’t deserve this. I am all the more glad that you are no longer working with him._

_You, RambleOnIm67, deserve goodness, and you deserve to be saved from him - in the past, in the present and also in the future. The same goes for your existential fears which sometimes consume you. Again, I want to apologize if I offend you with my words._

_However, from your messages I read that you have a close bond with your brother, a fact that touches me very much. It reminds me of my relationship with my brother._

_Family can mean many things, in my opinion. Sometimes it brings more pain and despair than any single person can bear, sometimes it offers us security and belonging and all the warmth we need in bad moments._

_I have learned that it is up to us to embrace the good parts of family and keep the others out of our life, or filter them out as much as is humanly possible._

_You are a strong man, and I admire you for being able to break free, at least partially, from your father’s toxic clasp. Many people never make it, and you, still in the prime of your youth, overcame it._

_I suppose there are still entanglements that prevent you from completely cutting yourself off from him, again here comes the suspicion that it has to do with your brother, but you have built a life of your own. You are more of a man than he could ever be, and I can assure you of that, even though we’ve never met._

_I listened to the song you mentioned, "Blue Moon". It triggered many emotions in me, and I could actually feel why it grounded you at that moment. Now that I know you started the ride back in your car, your Baby, that means so much to you, I’m interpreting even more into the whole situation._

_Tell me about your car, tell me everything. I want to read your thoughts and associations, want to understand how Baby sounds and smells and is, how she captivates you, how she gives you the sense of belonging that your father so obviously fails at._

_You realize that I have already developed certain anger toward your father because, unfortunately, I can imagine too clearly how he has treated you. So, I will endeavor to tell you at every opportunity that it is wrong the way he was to you, that it is wrong for you to accept the self-doubt he instilled in you as your reality and part of who you are. I just wanted to give you a heads-up because I’m not going to stop there. :-)_

_At this point I would also like to address one of your comments that you made in the context of the movie recommendations. This man you were talking about, the best man you know? I’m glad you got him. He sounds like the kind of father figure you deserve, someone who improves your life instead of making it more cruel. Someone who will strengthen and support you, not tear you down. I’m glad you have him, this man._

_Thank you so much for your movie recommendations. I have already watched both movies, and genuinely enjoyed them. They were so entertaining and real. Based on your comments and associations, I liked them even better, so much better. I’m ready for more movies on your personal list. I assume all these movies will teach me more about you as well, and that is a point I look forward to._

_I’m flattered that you’ve considered all these questions concerning my person, that you are as curious about me as I am about you. This caused unexpected feelings of happiness in me that warm my entire body when I think about it. I will start with the simplest question, the question about my favorite food._

_My favorite flavor is honey, to be honest. This is partly because honey has excellent properties. It reduces pain, increases my performance, and makes me sleep better, but most of all, the taste charms me. It may sound strange, but many dishes become so delicious to me when they contain a slight hint of honey. This starts with simple things like honey on my bread, in my cereal or yogurt, honey in pie, but also in salad dressing or in the marinade of a good piece of meat._

_Otherwise, I would name baked potatoes with sour cream as a favorite dish, since it’s the first meal I ate with my brother when we met. There was something down-to-earth about it, but also adventurous because I was more familiar with the "fancier“ dishes from home, if you know what I mean. Nowadays, I eat basically everything, though there are days when I crave nothing more than a well grilled burger. :-)_

_You also asked me about my thoughts in the morning and at night, and I think I can’t reconstruct the thoughts accurately for the time of my reading, so I will tell you about today. This morning, I was thinking about my work, regrettably._

_I have a project that I need to finish by the end of the month, while simultaneously working on another, bigger project. Work is also the reason why I could only answer you with a delay, although I wish it had been different. Sometimes my head keeps working during the night, so I wake up in the morning, and jump straight into work with full vigor._

_As for the last thought before going to bed: well, I would say that here I have to differentiate my answer a bit. Just now I was thinking about a girl I met today in the hospital. To this I should perhaps mention that I visit severely ill children and young people once a week to read to them._

_Now, this may make me seem like an overall selfless man, but honestly, I started doing this at my time of coming out to help others and help myself as well. Whether I had only the well-being of the others in mind or perhaps I simply preferred to deal with the problems of other people instead of my own, I should probably not analyze further._

_Anyway, today, after several years of doing the reading, I feel so content seeing the happy faces of those children. There is nothing more beautiful for me, really nothing better, than to look into the shining eyes of these children._

_I enjoy talking to them, laughing with them, helping them. Children are the most extraordinary beings. They have this special perspective on things, on life. And you would not believe the strength these sick children carry within themselves. I admire them. They keep fighting, always._

_Anyway, this girl looked at me earlier, looked at me for a long time, and asked me, "If I die now, will people still think of me in 30 or 40 years?“_

_And she looked so composed, so at peace with herself, was just curious, that this question still chokes my throat now. And yes, I have to admit that I couldn’t give her a satisfactory answer._

_Instead, we talked about other things, her dreams, what she still wants to do and say, and her hug at the end of my visit was one of the most endearing and heart-warming moments one could wish for, a thing I will remember for a long time._

_Other than that, I’m assuming that my last thought before I sleep tonight will be you ;-)_

_I love nature. It’s not a specific place, per se, but it’s where I understand so much about our world, where I remember that life isn’t just this acceleration we experience every day. There I don’t breathe air polluted by exhaust gases, there I don’t breathe falseness and superficiality, there I can be myself, and at the same time let all the beauty of plants and sometimes animals willingly affect me. Nature is a source of happiness, nowhere I prefer to lose myself._

_My other favorite place is actually the library, as you’ve probably guessed. The reasons are so many that the scope of this post is not enough to describe them in detail. The library is the place where I can learn more because I am always striving to expand my knowledge._

_The library also humbles me, shows me what others have accomplished in the past with their words, their thoughts, their actions. It encourages me to keep believing in myself and my goals. In addition, I find peace in the library. Because most of the time it is quiet there, hardly anyone is there in the late evening or earliest morning hours. I am happy there, which is probably the most important reason._

_And now I will try my hand at flirting again, and yes, I am aware that I should not announce my flirting beforehand._

_Also, I found your notes there, found you in the library, so to speak, and therefore I consider myself very lucky ;-)_

_What about you, what is your favorite place and why?_

_By the way, I loved your description about your music routines, it was marvelous. I could picture everything so well, especially the part where you wrote about your house. I was enchanted by it, and am now convinced that your home must be a beautiful place, one of a kind. Fit for its unique owner._

_As I write this message, I am listening to one of my comfort songs, "Right To Be Wrong" by Joss Stone. Since it fits both our stories, I figured it might cheer you up. :)_

_My personal highlight of your message, though, was the part where you talk about your username and the further possibility of interpretation. I have rarely read anything more beautiful and hopeful and profound, and I am grateful for your interpretation, your honesty, for the piece of you that you gave me with it. I will never be able to listen to this song again without thinking of you. ;-)_

_Finally, and maybe to answer your question about what quirk I have that I like, I’ll tell you how I bought my new TV. Because that’s actually what I did after you sent me those wonderful recommendations._

_I walked into an electronics store, went up to the first salesperson I saw, and, without introduction, hurled the important terms like color accuracy you had mentioned at him. Apparently, I yelled quite loudly because he immediately looked around in a panic. Then he nodded and helped me choose very kindly, though kind of anxiously. He was very competent, even if I overshot the mark a bit at first._

_And with that, you now know a quirk of mine. When I really want something and am very focused on it, I don’t necessarily always behave the way social etiquette dictates. This has led to a number of embarrassing moments. But sometimes, in hindsight, I have to laugh at myself so hard that I can’t really abhor that trait. :-)_

_I look forward to your next ramblings._

_Yours,_  
 _AngelMuses_ “

Dean drew in a sharp breath, and laughed as a few tears trickled down his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the motorcyclist next to him gave him a disgusted look, rolled his eyes, and grinned into his beard, but Dean didn’t care about that at the moment any more than he cared about Kim Kardashian’s latest lover.

Angel’s message was so damn wonderful, and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer him right now, but he couldn’t. Maybe he couldn’t answer at all.

Angel understood him so well, apparently knew what was going on inside him far better than anyone else ever had. On the other hand, Dean found himself in so much of what Angel wrote, feeling understood, no longer like he was flying aimlessly through the atmosphere. Yeah, the other was a fucking gift.

Dean’s head was spinning.

By the time, "All Along the Watchtower“ started playing, he sniffled uncontrollably which brought him another annoyed side glance from his neighbor.

Fuck you, Dean thought.

Why was this beautiful thing, this extraordinary thing, which developed between him and Angel, happening at this miserable time of his life?

He was a whole other level of mess. Damaged beyond repair. Angel would hate him, would run away screaming. He would never like him if he knew everything. If he knew how he ruined everybody in his life. How Dean destroyed everything by trying to make it right. By simply existing.

Regarding his family by blood, he was the fucking joker from the song, the person everyone benefitted from. The person whose actions were taken willingly, but was never really valued for his efforts, never looked at seriously. He was the person who always had his individual perspective on things, but in this case, nobody cared for his opinion.

Dean tapped his contacts again, tried again to reach the hospital. He didn’t care others could hear his call, everybody was involved in their business, anyway.

"Hello?“ he asked, relatively bereft of meaning, but profound communication would elude him today.  
"Mr. Winchester,“ a woman said, and sighed. He knew that voice. It belonged to that head nurse. Friendly, in her late forties, always met him with a smile when he was on site. Nelly or something like that.

"How do ya know it’s me?“  
"I recognized your number. You’ve called twenty times today.“  
"Right. Sorry 'bout that.“  
"No need to be sorry. I understand your concern. Like I mentioned, I cannot help you at the moment. We have everything under control. The situation is not critical anymore, everything will be fine.“

"Then why can’t I come?“  
"Your father has instructed us not to let anyone come here at the moment. Unfortunately, that includes you.“ He had known, and yet it pained him to hear of it another time.  
"How is this fair? Damn stupid injunction,“ Dean cursed, and the nurse sighed softly.  
"Look, it’s not for me to judge or even discuss your family circumstances. Dean, you seem like a fine fellow. Everyone here knows about all the things you do. Sometimes the people with the better lawyers, or in this case arguments, are the winners even though all reason is against it. I’m so sorry.“  
"I know. I just feel so helpless.“

"It’s not your fault,“ she said, and Dean laughed bitterly.  
"Tell that to my father.“  
"Your father,“ she whispered, as if she feared someone might hear her. "Your father is an asshole, if you’ll pardon the expression.“  
"Yeah,“ Dean replied hoarsely. "He is. Can you tell Sammy I said Hi at least?“  
"Of course. You’re a good kid, Dean. Your brother knows that deep down. And the appointment still stands, that is all that matters, in the end.“

Tears welled up in Dean’s eyes, and quickly he tasted salt. His eyes burned, burned as much as if someone had sprayed pepper spray into them.  
"Thanks,“ Dean muttered before hanging up.

Screw this. Screw all of this. Why was he only good enough as the money supply? It was so wrong. What had he ever done? He had no idea how Sammy could even consider the shit their dad had manipulated him to believe as the truth.

Dean couldn’t stand it, and he was afraid Sammy would never forgive him. Forgive him for fucking what?

Lost in thought, he scrolled through his messages, replying to Bobby, who had also sent several anxious messages to him. As he did so, his father’s last message caught his eyes, inevitably.

" _This is what happens when you neglect your responsibilities. If you’re being selfish. Again._ “

Fuck. It was so unfair and so mean, and yet exactly what his head was telling him permanently. Dean couldn’t take it anymore.

Breathing was getting harder by the second. He panicked.

He reached into his pocket, slamming a few dollar bills on the counter before downing the drink.

Staggering slightly, he grabbed his military jacket, put it on in a rush, and stomped outside. For a moment, the fresh and clean air helped him, and he breathed, breathed as if he had held his breath for too many seconds.

Again everything spun, and he sank to the ground, feeling as if quicksand was pulling him further and further down, taking away all control of his body.

Fantastic, Dean thought.

Gasping, he struggled back up. No, he couldn’t go home now. He had to get to another place.

Restlessly he ran through the area because he could really forget about driving today.

Dean walked and walked, eventually got a cab, and still ended up back on campus. Of course. The place he had left by choice, even though his studies were the best thing he had ever dared to do. The place that reminded him of his dreams, the place his father hated because he had had no control over him here.

And now, at this moment, it all seemed so senseless to Dean. His de-registration, his work in the car shop, his eternal overthinking, his brooding over books, his dreams, his self-doubt, his decisions to free himself from his father, his everlasting fear of his father, his deepest longings.

Everything.

Himself.

He existed in this shithole called world like an item some person found in a secluded alley outside a dumpster accidentally, an item that had no actual value but signaled personal worth in a way. That’s why the item had ended up in a lost and found, yet had never been missed enough to be picked up.

Dean stopped outside, didn’t go any further, just looked at the familiar site, not really knowing what he was doing here.

Again he stared at his cell phone, then back at the sky, then down at himself, looking for answers that no one could give him.

Instead, he turned back again, unable to find the strength to go to the library that day. He knew the faculty libraries, had loved moving between them then, finding new knowledge everywhere. But today, today he didn’t want to think.

He thought about Angel’s message, the only thing which had calmed him today. And now he broke one of his rules to not use the streaming service, searched for the song “Right To Be Wrong“ Angel had mentioned. He put on his headphones, and listened, really listened.

Yeah, he understood what Angel had meant. The song was perfect for his situation. All the lyrics fit so well, all of them.

“ _I’m flesh and blood to the bone_  
 _I’m not made of stone_  
 _Got a right to be wrong_  
 _So just leave me alone_ “

The song told about his helplessness and the frustration and anger he felt when thinking about his father, let alone talk with him. But the song also gave him strength and hope, so much hope.

Dean continued to roam the streets, passing block after block, noticing how the bubble that had settled over his body and especially his head was slowly lifting. His mind fell almost silent.

By now, he had reached a park he had never seen before. It was small, but somehow drew him. He walked on, seeing the trees and meadows shining in the light of the lanterns.

Sighing, he dropped onto a bench, completely lost in thought.

Finally, Dean shook his head, decided he didn’t care about anything right now, and typed a message to Angel that he would probably regret later.

" _Angel, I can’t think anymore. Crap. I’m probably the most fucked up person you will ever know. Your message was beautiful, and I’ve no frigging clue how you just understand me, find my innermost being, take it and cherish it the way you do. So damn amazing. Ain’t in a good mood right now. So lost._

_Thank you for saving me back there. I would’ve done something stupid today. Drink myself to oblivion or worse. Dunno what to do._

_Also: Can words make you yearn? Yes, in your case, they definitely can. Will answer you later when my head works again. Just wanted to let you know that you’re so great, and right now, I don’t fucking care if I am acting over-the-top. Can’t stop thinking about you. Dunno what to make of that._ “

Dean pressed send, and the next moment he screamed out loud. He was so pathetic. He felt dizzy again, bile rising inside him, and that was not a good sign.

His body trembled continuously.

Subliminally, he heard a deep "Dean?“, then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned/quoted in this chapter:
> 
> "Enter Sandman“ by Metallica (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD-E-LDc384)
> 
> "Dream On" by Aerosmith (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89dGC8de0CA)
> 
> "All Along the Watchtower“ by Bob Dylan, covered by Jimi Hendrix (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLV4_xaYynY)
> 
> "Right To Be Wrong“ by Joss Stone (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHVSptF3_G8)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think! :)


	11. Opening new doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 11! :)  
> Since it is someone's birthday today (*coughs*), I've decided to post the new chapter earlier. 
> 
> This chapter is a bit angsty in the beginning, but there will also be much fluff. :) :) 
> 
> Enjoy!! :)

**Dean**

Dean woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air like a drowning man. Then he clutched his body. His head ached, ached so much.

Otherwise, he was much better, no longer completely lost. And he was warm. Why did he feel warm?

That didn’t make any sense at all. He had been outside, in the park. What had happened?

He took a deep breath.

Dean looked up and met the ridiculous blue eyes. And he felt so damn much at that moment, he almost grabbed Mr. Blue Eyes and kissed him. But he didn’t do it because that was really just his stupid brain overloading him again.

The guy, whose full name Dean still didn’t know, looked at him with concern. Back in the club, he had only understood the beginning of the name. Cas.

"What the hell, man!“ he yelled instead, only now realizing that this situation was actually fucking weird.

Cas put a hand on his arm, but Dean immediately shook it off again, sliding away from him a bit, trying in vain to get his trembling under control.  
"Don’t fucking touch me. I mean it,“ he hissed, still unable to form a clear thought. "Sorry,“ he then muttered half-heartedly.

He was far too agitated, he had to vanish from here. He shouldn’t be around people, not now. He wanted to answer Angel, needed to answer him. But not now, not now, when he was far too naked.

"Okay,“ Cas said without anger or disgust. Okay. Nothing more. This guy was so unbelievable.

Dean laughed out loud, feeling a little hysterical. His head was spinning. Too many thoughts, again, far too many thoughts.

"I’m not a serial killer,“ Cas said with a little too much sincerity. "You can leave immediately or any time you want. I am not keeping you here. I promise.“ He raised his arms and nodded to the door. Dean huffed, and shook his head. This guy was so weird. Adorable, but weird.

"Yeah, okay, I believe ya.“ Dean rolled his eyes, still not thinking clearly. Somehow, he trusted Cas. "Buddy, when we were bickering and dirty dancing and laughing, I knew you were the real deal. Those gorgeous eyes, and the thighs and that ass, well, let’s just say, I felt good.“

Then, he shook his head again because yeah, he was, again, saying too much. This right here certainly wasn’t the right place or time to flirt. How was everything so surreal? It was too much.

"What happened? Where am I?“ Dean asked, trying to drown out his thoughts.  
"You fainted, and you were freezing, so cold. I was worried. I didn’t know what else to do, so I brought you here.“

"Cas, don’t get me wrong, I’m frigging thrilled to meet you again, after all,“ Dean said, smirking a little. "But how did you find me?“

"I can see the park from my balcony. I was thinking about taking a walk at night when I saw you there from a distance. The park is not far from here, only a few meters, actually.“

Dean groaned and sat up, taking in the surroundings. He was in a living room, currently sitting on a sofa. He recognized a desk, a secretary, like in those old movies, a comfortable leather armchair.

Most importantly, he was in a guy’s apartment, just like that. Holy shit, how was this his life?

He liked the living room. A lot.

"You carried me,“ Dean noted, though he had originally wanted to ask a question.

This guy, who was still damn attractive, who he’d already danced close with in a way he’d never danced with anyone, had damn well carried him. How did his days get more and more absurd?

"It’s kinda funny to me that we always meet when I am in a turmoil,“ Dean said then, without thinking. Cas looked at him, signified him to keep talking.

So Dean just did. "Ya know, the night in the club. I wasn’t even gonna go in there, to be honest. I mean, this guy I had met told me I have to go to this party. He owns the club, was pretty damn smug about it. And I was having a shitty day, a very abysmal day. And then I saw ya, recognized ya, and I just needed some distraction. And I really wanted to see you again. The evening was great, you were. The dancing was thrilling, kinda magical even. Was so disappointed we were separated. Thought I’d never see you again. Sorry, I’m a mess right now, just ignore me.“

"You know Gabriel?“  
"Yeah, I fixed his car. Why?“ Dean pinched the bridge of his nose while feeling his body getting colder by the second.  
Cas shrugged his shoulders. "He is my brother.“

Dean raised an eyebrow and licked his lips. "He - what? Ya serious? Huh.“ Dean paused, and hummed softly. "Wouldn’t have guessed that in a million years.“

Dean grinned a little, and shit, that felt so frigging good at this moment.

"What happened?“ Cas asked him then. "How did you land in a puddle of mud on this fine evening?“

Dean laughed bitterly and shook his head. Oh, that was the shittiest question the other guy could have asked.

Puddle of mud. Yeah, his life was really a continuous mud-wrestling.

Images flickered in his mind’s eye, changing every few seconds. He had to close his eyes because he was so dizzy.

Smoke. Sammy collapsing before his eyes. Change of scene. His father, screaming and so angry. New scene. Sammy again, this time hanging on the ventilator. Change of scene. Then the doctor, who told them he was no longer in danger of dying. Smoke. Change of scene. The doctor’s voice, just scraps of words. The damage is irreparable. It could have been prevented.

Another scene, this time a conversation with his father, who discussed that Sammy needed urgent surgery. Change of scene. Sammy collapsing, lying on the floor. Again another scene, this time himself collapsing. Change of scene. Bobby pressing him into a bathtub, meanwhile running warm water. Change of scene. A pile of letters, bills, so many bills. Change of scene. Phone calls, phone calls again and again. He, sobbing on the terrace in summer, still mourning his studies.

Change of scene. Sammy, who looked at him coldly and so angrily. Who hated him now. New scene, first scene, last scene. Smoke, smoke over and over again, that took away his breath. More images that choked him. All too much.

Dean took a deep breath, desperately, desperately needed to ground himself again.

He thought about Angel, saw the phrases "You are a strong man“ and "You are caring and brilliant and certainly don’t deserve this“ in his mind.

Finally, he could breathe again.

Cas had turned on some song in the background. It was tranquil, beautiful.  
"The song’s really nice,“ Dean murmured out of reflex.  
"It’s "I’ll Take Care of You“ by Beth Hart and Joe Bonamassa. She has a wonderful voice.“

"Mm, that’s right,“ Dean said, letting himself be lulled by the soothing melody and voice. He closed his eyes, just listening. In fact, after a few seconds he imagined making love to someone very tenderly.

Oh fuck, inappropriate, so inappropriate.

Instead, Dean thought about getting hugged, the most meaningful comfort he knew, which he had experienced in his early twenties for the first time in his life. When he had gotten to know Bobby better. His heart hurt and smiled simultaneously.

He sighed and dove into the tune again. Her voice really sounded amazing, he was kinda mesmerized. Then he thought about the fact the lyrics spoke to him on a deep level, and he felt so much pain and despair and also comfort. All at once.

Tears were running down his cheeks again. Shit, he was so pathetic, but he couldn’t stop it, in some moments he thought that he shed more tears than other people lost their whole lives. And sometimes he didn’t care on these days, sometimes he didn’t care how weak it made him.

He secretly knew it was because he had never been allowed to cry as a child because his father had reprimanded him every time and sometimes even hit him when he caught him doing it.

And that was why Dean had sometimes put his head under the covers, even in later years on the job, when they had shared a hotel room, to cry for a few minutes. Hidden, silent, to himself.

Dean opened his eyes again, nodded to Cas who looked at him worriedly, and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Trust me, you don’t wanna know what happened,“ he finally replied. "Family stuff. The bad kind. Ya know the book _Mommie Dearest_? Yeah, a bit like that. Fucked up, not a thing I wanna think about. Let’s not talk about that stuff if you don’t mind.“

Where had that come from? What was wrong with him? He couldn’t just tell this man about his fucked up family, that was so sick. God, he needed to get out of here.

Cas continued to look at him, eyeing him neither judgmentally nor pityingly, just intensely.

"Of course.“ Cas said that with such sincerity that Dean could have cried again.

Why did he always meet this wonderful guy when he was in an emotional mess? On a horror trip, rather. Outside the club, in the park.

Both times reality had ripped the ground out from under him, left him suspended mid-air, only to let him fall and drown him in lava like Gollum in Mount Doom.

Maybe Cas was some kind of guardian, and he saw it as his duty to save weak persons from danger and from themselves.

Dean’s ears were rushing, and he felt dizzy. When was the last time he had eaten or drank anything that wasn’t alcohol? It had to have been lunchtime.

Nausea overcame him, and he tucked his head between his legs.

"Bad memories,“ Dean replied, panting. He needed to distract himself, couldn’t think about that horrendous day anymore. Cas got up and came back a few seconds later with a glass of water. Interesting, apparently this handsome guy was also skilled in mind reading.

"Thanks.“ Dean drank the glass empty greedily, only now realizing how thirsty he actually was.

Soon he was feeling considerably better. Cas had to be some kind of angel, because the fact that he had found him in this bad shape, of all places, couldn’t be a coincidence.

"You do that often?“

Cas laughed softly, and Dean could simply stare at this beautiful sight.  
"What do you mean exactly? Rescuing intriguing strangers from the horrors of a park? No, never.“

Dean’s heartbeat quickened more and more since Cas had mouthed the word "intriguing“ so airily.

"You look terrible, by the way,“ Cas remarked.  
"Thank you,“ Dean muttered and grinned. Cas just waved and pointed to the door. "There’s the bathroom. Do you want to hear my opinion?“

Dean just puffed and nodded.  
"You could do with the jeans, the holes are not too obvious. The shirt and jacket on the other hand? A disaster. An October night is not the best time to splash in the rain, don’t you agree?“

That elicited a grin from Dean, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Sounds damn lovely if you call my fainting an intention. Yeah, I’ll think about it as soon as I lose the mud layer.“

A few minutes later, he stepped back into the main room looking relatively clean and much neater.

He wore his shirt crumpled up in his hand, now standing bare-chested in front of this handsome man, which was absurd anyway.

"I do have an old shirt in my room. A flannel. I don’t wear it often. If you’re not too picky style-wise you can have it,“ Cas said while looking him up and down. For the first time since Dean had met him, he saw a shy expression in his eyes.

"You’re kind, but I don’t wanna steal your boyfriend’s clothes.“ Once again, he excelled at his defenses. He had become really great at driving guys away early, driving everyone away, actually. He didn’t mention that flannels were exactly to his taste.

A snort escaped Cas, and Dean looked at him indignantly. "It just belongs to one of my older hiking outfits. No boyfriend,“ he muttered, shaking his head. "Okay, then I’ll gladly accept your offer.“

Without further comment, Cas ran into an adjoining room, apparently the bedroom, and a little later tossed him the garment in question. Dean slipped into it and slowly buttoned it up, inhaling the smell. Then, he became more talkative again.

"I cannot thank you enough. For everything. You seem like a purely kind person, it’s a rare character trait.“

Perplexed, Cas studied his features, apparently not knowing how to deal with the sudden talkativeness.

"No problem at all. I am glad I could help. Although I was afraid you would run away from me screaming.“

Cas took a step closer to him and looked at him intently.

"You were saying?“ Dean asked absentmindedly. Cas’s piercing gaze distracted him, triggered something inside him.

"Is this a serious question?“ Cas finally groaned in disbelief. "At first, you looked at me like I’m about to kill you. I had to check if I’m sending off crazy vibes.“

"You didn’t meet me on best terms. The last months were absolutely demanding, and I’m so frigging exhausted. Plus, my family stuff really sucks. But I shouldn’t have let that out on you. I’m damn sorry.“

Dean pulled a pout and looked at Cas apologetically.  
"What can I do to earn your forgiveness?“

Cas laughed. "You don’t have to do anything. In fact, I want to do something for you. Let me distract you.“  
Dean winced at the odd choice of words until Cas laughed again.

"I would like to buy you a cup of coffee - or two or three. I remember a man who very sweetly invited me for one, and I declined that offer very rudely. May I return this gesture? On top of that, you could use one, obviously.“

Faced with this directness, Dean laughed, and it surprised him to hear this sound coming from his own mouth on this day. “Yeah.“

“I know a place with good coffee and nice people.“  
“Okay,“ Dean simply said.

They walked for a few minutes. Pleasant silence fell between them. It was nice.

They walked into a bar that was somehow visually exactly Dean’s taste. Cozy, classy, not run-down, inviting. Quiet. No weird people. Great.

They drank their first coffee rather hastily, because Dean really needed coffee.

Dean liked the music. Sometimes there was good rock, sometimes blues, then some folk songs. Yeah, he could handle that.

He remembered the club, the strange familiarity that had developed so quickly between him and Cas. Dean thought back fondly to that night, because he had felt so damn free and good.

“Up for another dance?“ Dean asked before he could change his mind and smirked. Only then did it occur to him that people might look funnily. Did Cas even want to dance with him again? Maybe he found him weird which would be so understandable.

Cas, on the other hand, just smiled and stood up the next moment.  
“I was hoping you might ask that.“

A song started in the background, something bluesy, and Dean saw Cas already tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music.

Dean huffed.

“What?“ Cas laughed and damn, he should never dare to hide his handsome face. God, Dean really needed to stop staring at him like that.

“Nothing. It’s just that a- friend of mine also likes music like that. He actually digs Blues, in particular. I guess, I can see the appeal.“

“I see,“ Castiel said, and reached for Dean’s hand. “You don’t need to worry. Nobody here cares that we are two men who enjoy dancing closely together,“ Cas said, as if he had read his mind.

“M’kay,“ Dean said and grinned.

And then they danced.

“The song is called "Wild Night", by the way,“ Cas murmured, while they moved, again so intertwined, rolling their hips against each other as if there were no tomorrow.

Dean laughed at the same moment the singer laughed in the song, feeling all his worries rise into the air for a moment, still there but no longer pressing him to the ground.

“This here is kinda awesome,“ he muttered, before pulling Cas closer.

They quickly flew straight across the small dance floor. They held hands, spun in circles, flew back toward each other.

Son of a bitch, Dean had never felt such a strong tingling sensation while dancing. It was so good, so damn fantastic.

They danced, tapping their feet on the floor to the beat of the music. And damn, Cas was good at it, and it was hot, yeah, kind of hot, how he was moving.

And indeed, nobody, not a damn person, was interested in what they were doing here, at least not in a negative sense.

On the contrary, a few people even cheered them on, shouting. “Hell, yeah.“ or singing the “ _Come on out and dance_ “ from the song, and Dean couldn’t stop laughing when hearing those remarks.

And then the song started playing again, and Dean felt crazy. In a good way.

They danced, twirled across the floor while almost screaming,  
“ _And everything looks so complete_  
 _when you’re walking down on the streets_  
 _and the wind catches your feet_  
 _sends you flying_ “ over and over into the room’s warmness.

And at one point, everyone in attendance really cheered, supporting their dancing with the catchy “ _Oooh oo-ooh wee_ “.

Dean had never experienced a situation like this before, and maybe his overworked and exhausted brain was going completely nuts now from all the adrenaline and lack of sleep and his gloom and anger and sudden euphoria, but he really didn’t feel so crappy anymore. He was having fun.

The next song “Just Like Heaven“ by The Cure immediately got into his blood, and Dean laughed so freely, and laughed even more when he saw Cas’s adorable smile, and in those minutes he shoved the guilty conscience about his uplifted mood into a drawer way back in his head.

They pushed apart, back toward each other, pressing their bodies so close that Dean could feel and hear the other’s heartbeat. And Cas put his arms around his waist, stroking his back so gently, yet firmly.

And Dean looked at him, just looked at him for what felt like an eternity, as they continued to dance.

At that moment, he wanted to kiss him so badly that his heart ached. But he didn’t because it would have been wrong for so many reasons.

Finally, they dropped back into their seats, breathing heavily. Cas quickly began to question him about seemingly random things. Cas always eyed him intently, and Dean felt good at that moment, perhaps too good. Quite naturally, new topics of conversation developed from this.

Not once did an awkward silence arise. Dean felt at ease, was able to talk to Cas quite freely. By the third coffee, Dean had already talked so much that his mouth had gone completely dry.

For a long time, Dean had lost all sense of time, listening only to Cas, who on the one hand asked good questions, and on the other gave interesting things to say himself. Cas was an incredibly eloquent man, always speaking with a touch of humor.

At the same time, he was always charming and thus triggered a continuous feeling of happiness in Dean. As he waxed eloquently on a variety of topics, his eyes sparkled so much that Dean could no longer look away.

They talked about books, so many books, and Dean loved being able to talk about them with someone so deeply and passionately. Fuck, it felt marvelous.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so captivated by his conversation partner. Cas vividly told him about his brother, his hobbies, a bit about his job. Dean learned that he taught full-time and also worked part-time as an author.

He only mentioned bits and pieces, telling him about the genres he wrote in, and Dean didn’t press any further right now. He didn’t want to be nosy since the books seemed to contain very personal matters. In any case, that partly explained his passion for reading.

“I feel so boring with my job as a mechanic,“ Dean interjected after a while, winking.  
“It’s not the job that makes a person fascinating,“ Cas replied seriously. Again he started to speak, but then changed his mind and took another sip from his coffee.  
“Interesting remark,“ Dean mused, playing around with his spoon. Cas raised an eyebrow, apparently waiting for him to elaborate on his words.

“It’s just that I have been overthinking my life recently. All the time, to be honest. This job is not what I want forever. I mean, it’s fun, yeah, but I don’t see my future that way. I- I think I can achieve more.“

“And how do you see it, your future?“ asked Cas quietly. He had leaned forward quite a bit, looking at him as if he was the most exciting person far and wide.

Undecided how to deal with the attention he was now receiving, Dean ran his fingers through his hair. He felt so comfortable with Cas, like he knew him, really knew him.

Without pondering for long, he formulated his answer exactly as he felt it.

“That’s the frigging point. I don’t know it exactly. What I do know is that I’m gonna go crazy if I continue my life this way. The hectic, the obligations, not being able to enjoy the smaller things – it’s frustrating. Sometimes I just wanna run and do the things I really love, wanna be with the people I love, wanna try out new stuff without being ashamed, with men in particular, because deep inside I know it’s the right thing to do. Otherwise, I would regret it sooner or later.“

Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. What was he doing? He wasn’t supposed to say any of that stuff out loud.

During his remarks, Cas had frantically put his glass down and not taken his eyes off him for a second. However, he now looked so perplexed that Dean paused. He was doing it again, talking nonsense. Fuck this. He pinched his nostrils between two fingertips. “Sorry, I’m rambling.“

Contrary to his impression that he had scared him off with his words, Cas’s eyes possessed a warm expression.

“You are attempting to amuse me, aren’t you?“ it finally burst out of Cas. “You’re formulating my exact thoughts. I had a hard time with my coming out. Many tears were shed. I lost a dear friend at this time, simply because I decided to be selfish, to be myself. After all those years. I even wrote something about these feelings, this phase.“ Toward the end, his voice had grown quieter and quieter, so quiet that the bar suddenly didn’t seem intimate enough to Dean.

“You are doing this on purpose. Whenever I think you can’t seriously be more interesting you prove me wrong,“ Dean admitted. At this comment, Cas smiled so sweetly that Dean almost gave him a stormy hug.

Then Cas took his chin between his fingers and stroked it, apparently reflecting thoroughly on his next words. “Life is strange sometimes, isn’t it? A few months ago I had my mind solely on work and now-“

“Now what?“ asked Dean, spellbound. Cas took his time answering, so Dean had a hard time assessing how he had intended to finish the sentence. At the same time, his thoughts were whirring, causing his concentration to wane.

It was as if the air had become electrically charged, the tension between them was palpable.

An irrepressible warmth had empowered him, and he felt drawn to Cas like a magnet. Everything in him cried out to hug him and otherwise touch him. Maybe he was just talking to Dean out of a guilty conscience; after all, he had hinted at wanting to make amends for his behavior.

“We’re sitting here, and I can only absorb your smile. I got completely lost in it a long time ago.“ He shrugged, looking a little lost for the first time that evening. If he hadn’t known better, Dean would’ve classified his behavior as shyness.

He was so encouraged by this observation that he was finally no longer afraid to show him more clearly that he really did like him.

Perhaps thoughts of his father were still too present; perhaps he had something to prove to himself. “Likewise. Plus your eyes should be forbidden.“

There was definitely tension between them. Still Dean merely smirked, but then he did something that quickened his pulse considerably - he reached for Cas’s hand.

At this point, at the latest, he would have scared away any guy who was merely acting politely, driving him away with his attitude. This was not the case with Cas because he suddenly got up from his chair, sat down next to him on the bench.

He cleared his throat briefly, moved closer to him as a matter of course, until their thighs touched. This innocent physical contact alone sent pleasant shivers all over his body.

“Alright,“ they said in unison, laughing.

Cas moved next to him, thereby somehow managing to now press his upper arms against his as well. “I’m really enjoying the evening so far,“ Cas continued speaking. “Look what you’ve done to me.“

Now Dean frowned and turned his upper body to get a better look at Cas. “I am blushing.“ He smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand and shook his head. In fact, Dean detected a slight redness in his cheeks, and it looked really adorable.

“You make me kinda dizzy, too,“ Dean admitted. “It’s so hot in here, I feel like I’m in heat.“ Startled, he slapped his hand over his mouth. “Shit, I wasn’t gonna say that out loud.“

But Cas was already grinning mischievously, clearly enjoying himself. He then couldn’t get out of grinning at all, and Dean didn’t know whether to punch him in the arm or jump on his lap. Cas was amusing, he made him laugh.

It was good here with him.

“Actually, I feel quite hot, too. But I simply wanted to distract you today. No other intentions. I would not use you like that.“

Dean just nodded and drained the rest of his drink in one go. He did not have the feeling that he wanted to say goodbye to him soon and thus end the evening, but he was not sure. Despite his open manner, he remained inscrutable to him in many ways.

On the other hand, a certain familiarity had already developed between them, an understanding for the other. Not as intense as with Angel, but Dean was still so, so grateful to have met Cas.

Angel. Dean somehow longed for his words, even though the last message had been only a few hours ago.

What was he doing here, anyway? He was flirting with another guy, even though his thoughts, and rather his heart, were already with Angel. It was good, this thing between him and Angel, and he couldn’t mess with his heart.

That would not be right. Not when he had just signaled to the other guy that he was seriously interested in him, that he wanted to see where this was going with them.

Dean sighed, creating space between them again.

He looked at Cas, lost in the latter’s eyes.

“Look, pal, I kinda like you. Hell, I’m frigging attracted to you. Thing is there is this guy I like a lot. So, so much. He is just, so different, ya know. He makes me yearn and laugh and cry, and this might sound crazy, but he’s so deep. And I wanna see where it goes, if there’s a chance at something. I don’t wanna mess up my head even more when I approach something non-platonic with you as well.“

Cas tilted his head in confusion, then nodded and smiled. “That is quite alright. I am in a similar situation.“

Dean sighed with relief. “Okay, that’s awesome, I guess.“ Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, it would be nice to talk again, though. Whaddaya think?“

“Definitely,“ Cas replied and laughed.

Dean nodded, not knowing how much he wanted to reveal about himself. On the other hand, the other had already taken him to his apartment. How absurd was it that he still wanted to protect himself? Finally, something occurred to him.

“There is this book club I’ve started attending. Maybe we can meet there again some time. It would be cool to go there with someone familiar, someone who loves books as much as I do.“

“That sounds wonderful,“ Cas said and nodded excitedly. Dean laughed. God, this man was frigging endearing.

He shook his head, called a waitress over, asked her for a pen and paper, and wrote down the library address, room, and time.

Then he handed the piece of paper to Cas and grinned.

Then his eyes flickered over himself. He pressed his lips together, kneading his hands.  
“What about the flannel?“ he asked.  
“Keep it,“ Cas said sincerely. “Until next time.“ Then he smiled openly, and Dean felt so warm inside.

They said goodbye outside the bar. The sun would rise soon.

“You’re a great guy, Cas,“ he said sincerely. “I wish you all the best with this other man. Looking forward to talking to you again. Thank you for tonight.“ Dean laughed again and held out his hand.

Cas smiled at him, returning the handshake before pulling him into a hug. And here in this situation, after their encounters so far, Dean kinda hoped that maybe they would become friends. It would do him good to have someone else to talk to so openly.

In the taxi, at 6 a.m., “Wishing (If I Had A Photograph Of You)“ by A Flock Of Seagulls played, and Dean sighed exasperatedly because he had so many feelings.

At some point, he finally arrived home. He saw that he had another, shorter message from AngelMuses.

“ _Dear RambleOnIm67, I am so very sorry to read about your pain. Please let me know you are better. I worry about you. And I am also thinking about you quite constantly. You don’t need to feel embarrassed for telling me this. :-)_

_I would like to find out what this profound connection between us means. I want to know more about you._

_How can I help you right now? You don’t sound good today. We could meet in person? Or continue writing._

_Just tell me about all your consuming and confusing feelings, I will not feel appalled by your words. I could never. Sometimes the following is important for me: 'You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.'_ ”

Fuck, it really was a wild night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.“ – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations. 
> 
> Songs mentioned/quoted:
> 
> "I’ll Take Care Of You“ by Beth Hart and Joe Bonamassa (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cOLTrrcWE5c)
> 
> "Wild Night“ by John Mellencamp ft. Me’Shell Ndegeocello (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nPPRQeTxTY)
> 
> "Just Like Heaven“ by The Cure (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3nPiBai66M)
> 
> "Wishing (If I Had A Photograph Of You)“ by A Flock Of Seagulls (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opkzgLMH5MA)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think! :)
> 
> The next chapters will focus on their messages, starting with a long message from RambleOnIm67 in chapter 12. :) I'll try to upload it tomorrow (January 25)!


	12. October 9, 2:28 a.m. / RambleOnIm67

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 12 - more rambling from RambleOnIm67. :) 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

" **October 9, 2:28 a.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

Dear Angel,  
holy shit, we’re doing this whole "Dear“-salutation-used-for-actual-letters-thing now, huh? Not gonna lie, this made my stomach flutter in the best way. But yeah, "dear“ is obviously more personal and intimate, kinda the thing we’re going for here. :-)

Our messages are my highlight at the moment. I know, I know that’s a fucking weird thing to think, let alone write a stranger online. Thing is we’re not strangers anymore, not really. I already feel so close to you, and I enjoy this. I s’pose this text will get long, so please bear with me.

I’m listening to “Like a Dream” by Francis & the Lights right now (on this damn cozy sofa once more). I like the tune. Brings me in a good mood to write the things I’ve planned. You might wanna listen to that one, too. Just saying.

I’m late with my long response, I know. I’m really sorry about that. But like I mentioned in the short message I’ve sent you at like 6 a.m. after that night: No need to worry anymore.

Thank you for your warm and encouraging words, your sincerity and your effort to comfort me. I’ll be honest, I was at a crappy low point. Again. I don’t know how I always manage to get myself deeper into the shit. I guess it’s just my nature. Anyway, I resolved to at least not completely drag down the mood today.

The night I sent you the desperate message, I was lucky I had a friend to catch me and distract me. Moreover, you wrote me and delighted me. In the end, I fell asleep with a smile, which is pretty damn good progress.

There’s so much going on right now, so much that my head is spinning. But don’t worry about it, I’m feeling much better. And reading your messages, writing you, helps me and does me good (damn good). So much for that. I also liked the quote from Aurelius, got me thinking quite a bit. And it’s true of course, thanks for that.

Regarding your question about meeting in person: Hell yeah!!! But honestly? I’m not ready for that (yet). I don’t think you’re a serial killer or something. Or how did you phrase it in your first message? A troll or someone attempting to catfish.

Of course not. But I like this, the writing. I feel like we really have a profound connection, a bond, and I’d like to keep that going, wanna get to know you better than any other person out there.

Creepy? Nope. The frigging truth.

So, in conclusion: Let’s get to know each other better. It’s such a good way of truly seeing someone without actually seeing the other person. Looking under the surface. I mean, I was often objectified in the past. I kinda like this, the way you call my thoughts and mind beautiful. That’s damn flattering.

But I do wanna meet you. I do. And I am so looking forward to it. I might have squealed a little when I read that part of your message. Very girlish, to be honest. On an additional note: I have thoughts about our first encounter in person. Very vivid thoughts. :-)

Also thank you for answering my questions. That made me kinda happy.

Mm, honey, yeah, I tasted it while reading. You actually already answered the food question for me. My favorite food? Burgers. And pie. That was easy.

I liked the part with your morning and night thoughts. Dammit, I knew you were adorable, but you also have your heart in the right place. It’s fantastic. I’m glad you do that for the children. You must be one hell of a reader. I walk dogs from the shelter from time to time. It’s my thing to make others feel better. And myself.

Always wanted to have a dog, but I live alone, and I cannot exactly take an animal to work. In the past, there would’ve been no way to bring a dog along. Thank you for telling me that, I liked it a lot. (Also the bit where you mentioned thinking about me. Way to make a guy blush, dork.)

Favorite place. The library for similar reasons you mentioned. Great job with phrasing my thoughts, Angel. :-) Another aspect: It gives me comfort and reminds me why knowledge is important and valuable for me personally. My other favorite place would be my house. I think I described it in detail, so I’m not gonna do that again. Let’s just say it really is a place to call home. Also, the place where I work. It gives me familiarity because my boss is the best.

What do I think about? Well, this morning, I thought about my brother. Yeah, it’s kinda lame, but it’s also the truth. Might get back to that, soon. As for tonight? I thought about books. I always think about books at night, to be specific. Right now, I wish I could read some of my favorites again – but for the first time. Experience those things with an innocent mind (haha, not gonna find that with me), everything still so new, exciting, stirring, extraordinary.

On the other hand, with every perusal, I read a book for the first time, in a way, for books always give me new insights, show me aspects I hadn’t thought about before. I can develop new interpretations.

For example, I reread “In Search of Lost Time“ by Marcel Proust last year. I couldn’t stand it when I was younger, never finished it. Was too lengthy, in my opinion. I mean, 4000 pages. Holy shit, right?

But the second time? I was hooked.

Damn, the use of language is phenomenal. The descriptions are so precise, beautiful and captivating. Some of the first-person narrator’s thought streams are so familiar to me, or rather the way they develop. It was illuminating.

Sure, themes like art and homosexuality play a central role, I identified with that, but I was also just so captivated by the writing. I sat there in parts, and completely lost the feeling of time (joke’s on me).

What I was trying to say is that sometimes you have a completely new experience with a book, depending on what point or stage of your life you receive it. Ya know what I mean? I’ve noticed that especially with the works I’ve read before and after I’ve, well, admitted (really admitted) to myself that I like guys, too. So much for my thoughts at night.

Am also thinking about you, duh. ;-)

M’kay, I figured I tell ya the promised drunk anecdote since it sets a more light-hearted mood. I hope. Was never the vacation type. Not that I don’t like vacations, on the contrary, I love 'em, but there was never the time or the money or the opportunity. After my second college semester I was kinda persuaded to come on this students trip three other guys from my class had planned.

They were cool, and I always had a lot of fun with them (don’t have contact anymore, unfortunately, our lives are too different now...). Since I got into college rather late, I was the oldest. Had its advantages but was also kinda weird, sometimes. Anyway. We made this trip to Florida which was damn exotic for a guy like me. We didn’t have a fancy hotel, though, being students. We slept in those little huts. It was pure, in the middle of nature and near the beach.

One night, we went to a club, drank, danced a bit. Eventually, the guys found themselves a group of pretty (and hot) girls. I was about to hit on this cute woman standing by the speakers, but then, I didn’t. You see, there was this bartender who was apparently eyeing me since I had gotten into the place.

I hadn’t noticed it at first, but one of my friends made me aware of that fact. With a disgusted look on his face, but still. I looked at the guy, and he was practically undressing me with his eyes. Um. And yeah, he was sexy. Needless to say, I was so nervous. You wouldn’t believe it. I mean, I was in my mid-twenties, and felt like a 16-year-old. Embarrassing.

Well, I ordered another – what do you call them? Another Moscow mule. This refreshing drink with the lime juice. Okay, now picture this. The club had several rooms, all with different music styles.

And this room I was in? The bar was right in the middle, and there were, well, dancers on top of the counter. And then this woman who was already dancing with another girl winked at me and told me to come up there. And I thought, yeah, why the hell not? Okay, and then I danced.

I’m rather good at dancing, but being there on public display? Phew. It was all right after a coupla minutes. And this guy he watched me, still watched me. And I’m not gonna lie, it turned me on.

Anyway. I went down again after a few songs. And then he stood right in front of me, told me his shift was over, said some cute compliments. And then we just danced. There were those songs in the background I can never forget. "On The Floor" and stuff like that. Oh fuck. It was hot dancing. Mmm. Never danced that dirtily in my entire life.

Well, stop. That ain’t true. I’ve experienced something much, much better recently. But still, this was the first time I danced with a guy this close.

We made out after that. And I felt so confident. I mean, I usually am, but I was still in the absolute trial-and-error-phase back then (hell, still am). Oh, he was hot. Well, anyway. I wasn’t gonna tell you details about that stuff. We only smooched, by the way.

Afterwards, we went for a walk. It was nice. Sea breeze, we held hands. Turned out the guy was cute, almost shy, yet also experienced. Huh. We didn’t talk much, he wasn’t exactly eloquent, but it was okay. It was only a summer flirt. We kissed a lot. I’m a damn good kisser in case you wondered. :-)

Anyway, at this night, well, I was so nervous, but also not. Because he made me feel good, ya know. Some people watched us curiously when we jumped over some huge stones and trees which were used as benches. I didn’t care. Then, we went to this kinda playground and used the sways. It was the most childish thing I’d ever done. I’d never been to a playground in my life, not for fun. Okay, that sounds sad, but it’s the truth.

We were alone there, and, I dunno. It was just nice. After that, he took me to the pier, and I was in a good mood. So I threw him into the ocean and dived into the water directly after. What can I say? I can be a dork as well... :-)

That night I felt so free. I mean, if there hadn’t been those two mind-blowing and magical nights this year (which really were a whole other level of freedom, believe me), I would’ve considered it the freest state I’ve ever felt. Well, it’s still in the top 5, though.

We never exchanged numbers or anything, but that was okay. Was never my intention. I didn’t exactly feel something profound between us or anything, it was just a flirt. Still, a good night to remember on occasion. Never told anyone this story (like I said, I’m not good at talking about this stuff), so you can feel special, I guess.

I dunno if this story sucked. I just wanted to share something with you. A small secret. Hope that was okay.

Maybe you’ll also give me an anecdote? :-)

While I’m writing the next part of the message, I’m listening to the song you recommended, by the way. I am also cuddled under my favorite blanket, almost naked. (Gotcha! Shut your cakehole. Only a bare chest and boxers. Jeez. I just had a nice shower after running. I’m not gonna write you erotica, pal. ;-) Yet.)

The last few days, the song kept me going. It saved me. Thanks so much for that. It gives me strength and I wanted to open up a bit if you don’t mind. I kinda trust you, mm, dunno how it happened, but it’s the fucking truth.

My brother is in the hospital, ya know. You probably figured something like that. The thing is, it’s always an on-and-off thing. He’s had these bouts of weakness over the years, but we thought it was normal. Well, as normal as it can be.

Scratch that, my dad thought so. I was worried about my little brother, tried everything I could to make him feel better, looked after him. Well, I failed, obviously. That’s just who I am. Okay, I’m gonna tell you about this whole ordeal real quick because I wanted to be honest here, not trying to hide this because I’m really not having the best time right now.

Um, he’s suffering from a heart disease (with some other things). Apparently, he developed it years ago, but it was never discovered or seen as such.

By the time we’ve learned about it, he was in his twenties. He collapsed one day, just stopped breathing. Crap. Turned out he needed a special treatment with antibiotics (regularly) and other checkups.

He got exactly that, medical bills for the treatments and all the check-ups (many, many of 'em) were expensive, but I figured he would be better. And he was better, for a while. Then, all out of a sudden, it got worse again. Doctor said the only way to actually save him was surgery. He meant that literally cause without the surgery my brother would die.

Fuck, it pains me to even write this. I feel so weak because this always makes me cry, but I mean, he’s family. How could I not weep? He hates me now which worsens everything. I- there’s just so much that’s going wrong in my life. But I keep fighting, I always do. And I have those awesome people in my life who ground me, give me meaning and make me laugh. And that’s all that matters in the end.

Ya know, I always do my thing. I work so much, try to distract me, read, always read because I don’t want the thoughts catching up on me. They mustn’t come. It’s the rule. I’m always this I’m-fine-guy. You know those people? Yeah, I kinda invented this role.

The appointment for the surgery is soon. Finally. He collapsed again the other day, it was the day I wrote you this pathetic message. Wasn’t allowed to visit, and that gutted me. Couldn’t think anymore, was so lost.

My dad is blaming me for my brother’s sickness, can you imagine? It’s all so fucked up. God, my dad really is an asshole for so many reasons. Still, I do the same thing, actually, blaming me. Could’ve been prevented, this thing. I should’ve done something, should’ve saved him. Couldn’t. Always want to help, always end up being miserable. Not trying to be a downer here, that’s just kinda how my life went.

So, now you know. A part of my story at least because yeah, unfortunately, there’s much more to the legendary family saga. I just figured you were so open with me in the very beginning about your adoption, Hannah, your coming out, and I wanted to return the favor.

Wanna tell you more about this stuff, but let’s wait with the rest. Don’t wanna make this all dark. :-)

Changed the song. “By Night“ by Puzzle Muteson. It creates an itching in the back of my head, soothes me at night. It’s good to think, but not overthink. Also lets me yearn. It’s very intimate, fits this writing situation between us... :-)

I dropped out of college to work, to gain more money. Like I mentioned: Expensive medical bills. I love my brother with all my heart, but I still miss my studies. Every single day. Was the best thing I’ve ever decided to do. I’m sad about that, devastated.

And the time when I decided to (was forced to) drop out of college? Yeah, you guessed correctly. That’s when I started the scavenger hunt. ;-) Wanted to leave a mark, immortalize myself in the library.

Got the notebook from this father-like man I mentioned. He wanted me to write down my thoughts there, it was his way of comforting me. He figured I should still write down meaningful stuff and preserve it for the future. Full circle, huh?

Chose this specific library for many reasons. I mean, I didn’t even study the Classics, although I love those texts (as you might have noticed). Studied English, FYI. However, the Classics and the ancient times in general?

Yeah, this era is something eternal, a legacy that has existed for millennials and laid the foundation for so many other things. Things which were important in other epochs. Things which developed further. Things we still benefit from today.

Political theories, rhetoric, architecture, historical figures, culture. Language, I mean, I could write essays about the importance of language and communication. Fuck. Also art, always art. You get my thought process here?

That’s a real question. I’m curious. Ya know, as a teenager, a test established I had a very high IQ. Like, too high to be considered normal. Yeah. My dad was not amused, thought I was a freak. Honestly, I like being intelligent. Should not be considered a stigma if you ask me.

Where was I? Right, the immortalization. Maybe it’s a cheesy thing to do. But I figured the library which is, in fact, one of my favorite places as well should have and preserve a part of me although or because I can’t go there as often as I used to anymore. I also had this stupid idea that maybe somebody would find the notes. Wasn’t prepared for an actual person, though. I needed a win. And you? You really are a fucking gift, man.

M’kay, confession time. Ya remember what I told ya about me not liking streaming services? Yeah, my point still stands. Duh. But I might have made myself a playlist the other day. It’s called "Top Angel traxx“. (To be honest, that’s just the official name. Wanna know the secret one? ;-))

Basically, it includes all the songs I could find which are talking about or referring to angels and also some songs simply reminding me of you. Funny, huh? Never mind. Yeah, I was a sap that day.

Thing is I kinda ditched a very great guy 'cause of you (FOR you). Zero regrets, though.

I like you, and I’m tired of hiding the fact I want this to become more. Maybe. But you seem to be pretty okay with the prospect.

We also have to talk about that username, dude. It’s killing me not to know the origin. But I’m assuming you’re just referring to your angelic nature. :-)

So thrilled you liked the movies! (The image of you buying a TV is fucking cute.) Are ya up for another movie? Of course you are. :-) (By now, you’ve probably realized I’m using more emoticons with every message, huh? Yeah, I’m getting used to that. Ain’t the emoticons guy, but it helps with the flirting via text.)

Watch "Rebel Without a Cause“. Not gonna say much about that one, it’s rather self-explanatory why I like the movie. It’s all about dysfunctional families, responsibilities, searching and finding real father figures, rebelling and/or breaking free from patterns, the (emotional) confusion and also about abandonment. About finding oneself and about tolerance. Just, ya know, watch it. It’s not a movie for every day, though. Not gonna lie, for me, it always involves tissues (and sometimes ice cream). Still, it’s a damn good movie.

Also: James Dean’s one handsome bastard. He was actually the first guy I had a major crush on. Oops. :-) Yeah, about that. My dad found a poster under my bed. This famous picture from the movie "Giant". You know it? Never mind, I’m gonna attach a picture to the message if I find one online.

Him leaning against a car, rifle over his shoulders, unbuttoned shirt. Hot damn. I folded the poster in the middle, so I would only see him, although Elizabeth Taylor was one pretty woman. My dad was not amused, to say the least. Still, James Dean was an icon. Died way too young. Such a tragedy.

Yeah, but if you wanna know more about my younger self, watch the movie.

Then, I wanna recommend another movie which brought me much comfort in the past and is so beautiful regarding the story-telling but also the animation. It’s not a very manly film, but frankly I don’t give a shit. I mean, we’re on Geekatism after all. It’s called "Castle In The Sky" and just magical.

Seriously, watch it. Makes you smile, I promise. :-) Also, I might have projected my wishes on the girl, Sheeta, a little too much, but how could you not? She’s so awesome and brave and deserves all the goodness in the world.

I know you don’t watch movies that often, but maybe there are one or two that stuck with you? Or tell me about a documentary that you considered fascinating. Am really curious.

Apropos fascinating: I have to learn more stuff about you, dork. You have some great hair, there, as far as I can see that. I’d love tousling through it while kissing. Um, that came out wrong. Your profile is also attractive. Mm. Can you tell me more about you?  
Not only about your physical appearance, just more stuff about you.

I mean, your user profile didn’t exactly give me much to work with. I liked the description of your house/apartment, sounds like the kind of home I would like. Okay, you’re probably a philosopher, a student, a member of the college staff or some kind of writer/journalist doing their research in the library. Or someone with a huge love for literature like me. I’m gonna tell you two of my fantasies about you, anyway.

First, you could be a super spy whose mission involves tricky inscriptions in Greek and Latin. They are necessary to solve the mission and rescue the people in danger. Secondly, and the following is my favorite fantasy at the moment. You might be some kind of real life Indiana Jones. I mean, you have a thing for young Harrison Ford, right? Tell me, you’re out there looking for treasures in those kinds of clothes. Mmm.

I’m just kidding, obviously. Also: You don’t need to be an adventurer, you’re damn interesting, anyway. That attracts me so, so much more than the fantasies, to be honest. Still, we could go on our own adventures together in the future, whaddaya say?

I will give you some details about me as well. I’m 6"1, have brown hair (as you can see), green eyes. I like my lips. People tell me I’m handsome and fuckable, but that’s definitely not what I wanna establish here (like I said: objectification sucked in the past). I’m pretty normal. One tattoo, might tell you about that one another time. No piercings, several scars (some smaller, some bigger). Am rather muscular, but not the bodybuilding type. I dunno. Should be enough for now.

I still owe you my quirk and my associations regarding Baby. God, that request was so fucking sweet. I smiled like an idiot (I mean, you even wrote "she“!!!). Next time, 'kay?

Will be thinking about you, (my) dear Angel.

Sweet dreams,

RambleOn. :-)“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned:
> 
> “Like a Dream” by Francis & the Lights (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqhaMewA2K0)
> 
> “On The Floor“ by Jennifer Lopez feat. Pitbull (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4H_Zoh7G5A)
> 
> “Right To Be Wrong“ by Joss Stone
> 
> “By Night“ by Puzzle Muteson (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUG7iUnbtdA&list=FLIK2hHJb9mJBrY-VAiXjJaA&index=3)
> 
> I’m @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)
> 
> Next chapter will be posted on February 7. :)


	13. October 21, 11:46 p.m. / AngelMuses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 13. :) The long (very long) reply by AngelMuses. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**October 21, 11:46 p.m.**  
**From: AngelMuses**

"Dear RambleOnIm67,  
after our lively back and forth of short messages over the past few days, which have brought me much joy, I now find the time to reply to you at length. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your open, heartwarming, stirring and funny message. And the songs you told me were perfect for the mood. What I like so much (among other things) about our correspondence is just that.

We are able to open up, to reveal the aspects of our being that we usually don’t reveal or even bury deep inside. I am grateful, incredibly grateful for this gift.

I appreciate your patience, for making me understand in the last few days that you would not disappear from my life when I am not able to answer (yet). You show so much thoughtfulness and understanding. I’ve noticed from some of your short texts that you are at least as curious about my responses as I am about yours.

In fact, I really enjoy how you have become a part of my everyday life so naturally. When I sent you my short update message on October 10, I did so with a simple intention. I wanted to let you know how much your words meant to me, how much they made me feel.

I did not expect that you would respond so wonderfully and take this little text as an opportunity to write to me every single day.

Every morning I had a message from you in my inbox, every morning I was able to give you some thoughts to take with you. Every noon you sent me a few short snippets of thoughts that made me laugh so hard during lunch breaks that my colleagues suspected I was having a caffeine overdose.

Every day you asked me questions about my day that seemed so simple at first, but stayed in my mind for hours. However, I think our nightly messages were and are my favorite. Meanwhile, I have come to realize a lot about you.

You are indeed a very nocturnal person. In the morning you write more soberly (not an accusation, just an observation), at noon you become incredibly witty and downright bawdy, always with a hint of sass. In the evening and especially at night, however, you are so open - so raw - that my heartbeat sometimes stops for a few seconds.

It’s as if the night is your confidante, as if in her presence, you reveal all that you might not otherwise consider worth mentioning. Which is wrong because the very deepest thoughts you cherish are the ones that stick with me. The ones that enchant me. I think it’s in those moments that I long for you the most, if one can put it that way.

Your short message from last night has never left me. I keep thinking of your words, even wrote the sentences down on paper.

You wrote, " _Where did this frigging day go? Am lying on the sofa. My clothes carry the damn dirt, my body screams exhaustion, my back demands to dive into a whirlpool or to be kneaded thoroughly, with tenderness and strength all at once._

 _My arms notice the hole where a person would fit in like the missing part of a puzzle. On my lips I taste coffee, soft rock and my longing for an ethereal kiss. A wholesome kiss that would mend my shattered self, that would send lava through my current frozen veins. Angel, ya feel me?_ “

My answer to that is, yes, I feel it, I feel you. And yes, of course you are the person I imagine when I think of such things.

And I agree with you: we are definitely not strangers anymore. In fact, I feel so incredibly close to you - like you’re sitting next to me on my sofa right now. While I have my arms wrapped around you, of course. :-)

Right now I’m at a point where I don’t know if it should scare me that you, your words, touch me more than any other person ever could, or if I should euphorically surrender to this maelstrom of feelings. Undoubtedly, I have taken a clear path, and I hope in doing so I reflect what I take from your message. I want to go for it, without ifs and buts.

I’m not certain if that makes sense, since I’m at a low point today. Still, I didn’t want to make you wait any longer for my answer, I certainly don’t want you to get the impression that I’m avoiding you or that I’m not interested.

Writing you, reading your answers – I can say quite frankly that this is also my current highlight. This is not even because everything is going badly, many things are developing far more positively than I would have expected, no, it’s just that the acquaintance with you is so extraordinary. Unique.

Your explanations about our personal meeting in the future have therefore delighted me. Especially your explanations why our messages mean so much to you. You hit my views to the point with that.

Although part of me can’t wait to see you, to take all of you in, I too enjoy what we have and create here. It’s wonderful the way it is. For now. :-)

Additionally, I wanted to emphasize that I am curious how you look, I really am but I am certain your inner beauty will remain the thing that draws me to you. I do not care whether you look plain or are a model, I care for your beautiful character. Still: I am sure your physical appearance must be beautiful as well. It would simply fit you in general. :-)

And please don’t worry: I get your thought process, you are very introspective and articulate. And your intelligence baffles me, it doesn’t appall me. I don’t think you are a freak, on the contrary. I think it makes you exceptional. Your intelligence is one of the things which I find most attractive about you (from what I’ve learned about you so far).

To better respond to your message, I wanted to preface it with a few words. I deliberately left my profile vague because I suspect certain details make it very easy to identify me in the offline world.

I found it extremely charming what you wrote about my angelic nature and your playlist. Yes, I would like to know the secret title of the playlist. On a side note: Maybe we will listen to this playlist together sometime. I can imagine it could enhance the probably already intimate and charged atmosphere.

What also warmed my heart was your anecdote from your vacation. It’s nice that you still think back fondly on that memory, that it was a reason to embrace your sexuality. I thought I’d do the same, tell you a few things about it.

My first kiss with a man happened relatively late, in my sophomore year in college. Although - as already indicated - I found boys interesting when I was young, I buried those thoughts very deep inside me. Always distracting myself, giving other things a higher priority.

For my life situation at that time, this was certainly the better decision, even if the constant pretending and the shutting down of my thoughts and desires cost me a lot of energy.

The first kiss. Well, I can justifiably say that it was not what a young man searching for his identity had fantasized at night. It was a cliché: spin the bottle. In college, I wasn’t exactly what you’d call a party animal, yet my friends made me break out of my comfort zone every once in a while. The party was at the dorm where my best friend lived.

Many of his fellow students were there, many people who were unfortunately very aloof and limited with their insights. To this I should perhaps mention that my best friend had studied law, and is now an excellent lawyer.

He is very articulate, righteous, and likes nothing better than to pore over lawbooks and past court cases. That in itself is a fact that you would not suspect when you meet him, but I can perhaps elaborate on that subject elsewhere.

We were in this community room that was popularly used for celebrations of this nature. Music was playing in the background, awful music. Much too post-processed, one could hardly recognize the voices of the performers, let alone the instruments, if there should have been any real ones at all.

This fact alone already put me in a strangely irritated mood. It was as if the music wanted to make me nervous, not let me find relaxation. And at this point I had a premonition that the evening was ill-starred, as they say.

The really difficult part of this situation was that I actually had a crush on my fellow student. We had several classes together, even worked on a project together, and we got along well. Even though I knew he was taken and not interested in men, those feelings could never be turned off. If he noticed some tension between us, he didn’t let it show.

Anyway, I turned the bottle, and it landed on him, of all people. You may need to know that there were many women present. The probability that I would kiss a man, of all men, was low. In addition, it was bad luck anyway that the party was already under so much alcohol influence at this point (not from my side, I drink but rather in moderation) that people became sillier as if by themselves.

So we kissed, and in the heat of the moment I became too exuberant, was too overwhelmed by my feelings. The other didn’t push me away, no, he returned the kiss very passionately. In retrospect, I knew that he had let himself drift. Until now, I don’t know if there was perhaps more on his part, in any case the following seconds destroyed everything.

A few of the people present made disgusted noises, said mean comments and over the next few weeks I was, well, treated badly. I quickly became a laughing-stock, was the talk of the town, so much so that even my parents got wind of this faux pas. Only after I had explained to them at length that it was just a party game did they believe me that I had not gone rogue. It was all a huge disaster.

Another formative experience happened years later. After visiting my family, my car broke down on the way home. I was somewhere in the middle of nowhere, didn’t have a cell phone with me, and didn’t see a person far and wide. So I trudged through nature, really through meadows and fields.

It was a hot summer day, I was in a great mood, ready to leave my bad experiences behind. At this point, my breakup was a few months behind me. I’m not sure how much you want to know about this painful part of my story, so I’ll leave it out at this point.

I roamed through nature, enjoying the chirping of crickets, the chirping of birds, the sun’s rays on my face and bare upper arms. The smell of grass and sunflowers and cornflowers and hay.

Eventually, I bumped into a man a little older than me. At first, we didn’t get along at all, no, we quickly got into an argument, to be honest. I don’t know how I managed it, but I convinced him to call a repair service from his phone. On the way back to the farm where he lived, we fell into a good conversation.

In fact, we realized that we had been prejudiced about each other before. I liked him. He was down-to-earth, not at a loss for words, if a bit aloof at first. He was attractive, very attractive. But what I liked most was the way he spoke.

Frankly, there was a tension between us. In the end, I didn’t end up calling the repairman. In fact, he towed my car with his, offered to drive me to the nearest car shop the next day. Well, I won’t go into too much detail here.

We spent a passionate weekend together. It was very, very physical, and ultimately, our views of life were too different. Nevertheless. They were happy days. Exciting, adventurous, passionate. I had to process these experiences for a long time. And in a way, they changed everything. They opened new roads for me. The best ones.

Moreover, it may have shown me that deep inside me there is a desire to adventure with the right person. I still harbor a longing for a road trip, for togetherness. That’s why I liked what you wrote in the context of "Little Miss Sunshine“.

Besides my love for ancient works, I actually read a lot of other literature. That statement in my profile was not an exaggeration or an attempt to shine with intellect where there is only empty husks behind it. Literature is everything for me. My daily companion.

Ever since I found an old, tattered version of "Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland“ in the attic as a boy, I’ve never been the same. Or am I really me, depending on how you want to define it. :-) I found your words about books fascinating. I also like what you associate with libraries and the knowledge stored there.

Not to mention, it touched me deeply that you have now told me the complete background of your scavenger hunt. It is one of the most beautiful and stirring things I have ever witnessed. Your idea was truly wonderful, and I’m glad you decided to put it into action - because that’s how we met. :-)

I now understand the context better, understand how personal those notes were to you. How you wanted to use your difficult situation to create something better. You are so reflective, and once again your beautiful mind amazes me.

First of all, I want to mention once more how much the situation with your brother hurts me. I have already tried to give you confidence in my other messages over the last few days, and I hope that I have succeeded to some extent.

I don’t want to give you phrases, I don’t want to tell you that everything will get better. Certainly, everything will get better, especially the surgery will hopefully take a big burden off your shoulders. However. All this does not undo the fact of how your father treats you.

You feel so much pain, worry about your brother, and yet he makes you feel guilty too. That is absolutely wrong. I don’t know what your father is telling your brother, and I probably can’t even fathom what else has happened in the past that has broken up your family like this. If you want to tell me about it, I’m here. I won’t judge you, I really won’t.

You deserve to have your fears taken seriously, to be caught, instead of being thrown out on the proverbial open road again and again and accepting being run over, again and again. It’s wrong. It is wrong, and you must never think otherwise. My thoughts are with you and of course with your brother.

My faith has been greatly shaken in the past, as you know, but I will pray for your brother every day. Every single day, morning, noon and night. I wish that his suffering will become so bearable that his daily life and yours will no longer be so limited. I wish that he realizes how wrong he is in assuming that you are responsible in any way. I rather assume that your father’s abusive behavior has contributed a lot to his health state.

I wish for your brother that he can return to a more normal life. I wish all of that for him, even though I don’t know him. But I know and feel how much he means to you, and that is enough for me. This person that you care about so much, that you love so much that you give up your own dreams and goals, if only for the moment, this person must be a great person.

And also, I pray that you, RambleOnIm67, will be able to pursue your dreams again as well. You are honored by how much you are sacrificing, that you are doing everything you can to be able to pay the bills.

Still - in a few years, there won’t be much left of you if you keep this up. You’ll exist only as a shell. And it would devastate me if your fascinating insights, your beautiful soul, your amusing and witty ways disappeared altogether. If they were so buried under burdens and responsibilities and suffering that they could no longer be released.

I hope I didn’t offend you too much with that. I just think that you deserve to have someone tell you that you are not just there for others to benefit from you and your achievements and intelligence.

You are you, and also considered solely on your core worth everything. I just wanted to tell you that in this way. If you like, keep me posted on your brother’s condition. Through you, I care about him as well.

Believe me, I know the helplessness you describe. Those phases in life that challenge you so much that you simply can’t find the way out. Where you think you have a solution, but shortly thereafter the universe just puts more hurdles in your way.

In this context, I had to think of one of my favorite works, and started rereading it in the last few days. As you said: Each perusal brings new insights, offers new possibilities for interpretation.

The work I’m referring to is "Moby-Dick". I last read this classic three or four years ago, more frequently at shorter intervals before that. A recent encounter made me think of it again. It was such a situation, which at first seemed inappropriate to me, but which was actually a stroke of luck. It showed me that sometimes, even in the most stressful moments, good things can happen.

" _There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes his whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody’s expense but his own._ “

I think of this quote when I find myself in situations that seem too absurd and too overwhelming. Sometimes you just want to run away, want to escape all these expectations of other people. I too often experience that people only approach me with a positive attitude because they hope to get something out of the encounter.

This applies not only to business meetings, but regrettably to interpersonal encounters, i.e. dating. You wrote of being objectified many times in the past. That may not apply to me to the same extent, but still, I know the feeling of being reduced to an image that people have of me.

They then see my status and want that person, not the person I actually am. They don’t want to see the sides of me that may not fit this ideal that they make for themselves through superficial narratives.

At those moments I realize I cannot change those persons. What I can change, however, is the effect they have on me. I can be stronger than such behavior. I can be stronger than those insecurities which my brain produces to belittle me. I will not celebrate other people’s reactions and certainly not support such manners, but I can be strong enough on my own. For myself.

To limit your detective work a little with that, I wanted to give you some clues. Again, I would like to mention that my behavior in this regard has nothing to do with the fact that I don’t want to tell you anything, on the contrary. I just think that a man like you, who is clever beyond measure, would find out my profession within a very short time - and thus would know who I am.

In a way, I’m in the public eye, although that’s more of a fringe thing. Also, it’s probably not a mistake if I tell you that I have de facto two professions.

On the one hand, I have my main job, the job I took despite all the protests of my acquaintances. A job that fulfills me very much, that confronts me with new puzzles every day, a job that opens up great and wonderful encounters for me, a job that gives me more knowledge every day and lets me delve deeper into the subject.

My other profession came about rather by chance. I didn’t expect to ever earn money with it. I really didn’t. But sometimes changes in life circumstances lead to exactly that: That you discover new paths for yourself, dare new things, jump over your shadow, and let people share a part of yourself. Even revealing secrets in a way that might have been unimaginable in the past.

Being a spy would be appealing to me. I see myself not as a James Bond in a fancy suit, but really as someone who fits into his role so well that no one notices my disguise.

Regrettably, I also have to reject the Indiana Jones association. You were correct in your assumption that I have a soft spot for the young Harrison Ford, especially in this role. Is it strange that I sometimes associate the way you write with Indy’s wit and strength and inventiveness? :-)

To your other guesses, all I can say is that they are all true to some extent. I am an eternal student, greedy for more and more knowledge, I love to philosophize about the peculiarities of life and existence, I have found my place in college, I use the library for research purposes, although not exclusively for research on ancient works. And I have this great passion for literature. :-)

Sometimes, literature is easier to grasp for me than people. For example, I thought I’ve made an acquaintance that could become a true friendship. The person really seemed interested in deepening our talks, in sharing our common interests like books, in getting to know me better. I was invited to a gathering but as it turned out he didn’t give me the right time or place for I was there and waited, and nobody showed. This kind of disappointment is hard to handle for me – when the cause was meaningful to me.

In fact, "Rebel Without a Cause“ is even one of the movies I know. I’m grateful that you shared your take on it because now I’ve gained a different connection to it. Two days ago, I watched the film - as I already wrote to you in my short message - and was emotionally involved. Thank you for this recommendation.

The first time I saw the movie was about 10 years ago. My brother, who is a big movie lover with extensive home theater equipment, hosted a sort of themed movie night back then. Since I’ve already told you how he flew to Italy to find the perfect speakers for me, you can probably imagine that his movie equipment choices were also specific and targeted.

The theme of the movie night was "Classics of the 50s“ but I suspect unofficially he just wanted to enjoy a few of his favorites on a grand scale. This movie was one of them. I have to say, I liked the movie even then, but now it won’t let me go at all. At the time, one movie blended into the other too quickly. It was more about socializing, spending time with friends. It was a wonderful evening.

My brother even has a popcorn machine, one of those retro ones you still find in movie theaters. As I describe in my profile, I’m not usually a big movie watcher. Nonetheless, your recommendations, your words about movies and finally the emotions I felt while watching them made me want to watch and discover them.

I imagine taking you to the cinema (a date). Preferably to a classic cinema, which still have those noble halls and comfortable seats.

I think about standing next to you at the box office while you enthusiastically study the scoreboards and brochures to find the perfect movie. You would look at me, explain to me why we should go see this particular movie, have a bright smile (which I’m sure is dazzling) while doing so, and convince me by that alone.

We would be sitting in a nearly empty movie theater in one of the back rows, completely lost in sensation, and at some point the movie would still be there, still entertaining, but quickly the action would shift to the here and now. To us.

I quickly got lost in these thoughts. What did I want to tell you with this? I realize that you could probably get me to continue to expand my film knowledge and enjoy that fact more than I do. :-)

On this occasion: you are welcome to describe to me how you imagine our first meeting in real life.... :-)  
And I find it so endearing that you walk shelter dogs – I hope we will do that together one day. :-)

I will watch "Castle in the Sky“ tomorrow. I have already bought it. The woman in the store eyed me strangely for a moment, then laughed and said that I’m now carrying the magic home with me. I’m excited to see this movie. Just now I was already googling for the soundtrack, and was quite taken by it.

I was thinking about what movie I could name you that has made a lasting impression on my mind. In fact, there are a few that maybe we could rediscover together as well. One would certainly be "A Single Man".

I don’t know whether you have watched it, but it is about the life of a homosexual man after he has lost his true love, showing glimpses of their past. Moreover, it portrays the struggles and emotional development of the protagonist very well. It has also hopeful tones despite the tragic. This movie certainly stuck with me. The ending is bittersweet and brought me to tears.

As for the documentations, I’ll send you two links right away. I hope that my admittedly limited technical skills will suffice. ;-) The first documentary captures the marine world in a unique way. The shots of the underwater worlds captivated me so much that I learned to appreciate the beauty of our earth even more.

In the second documentary, the continents of the earth are shown through breathtaking landscape shots, focusing especially on the different habitats of the animals that live there.

It was wonderful to see how the animals have adapted to long periods of cold, for example. They are so inventive, so clever. Many aspects are beyond our horizons. The way they communicate is also fascinating. Some species of birds, like penguins, produce sounds so distinct that their peers instantly recognize them. Among thousands and even after long separation. And that’s just one of many examples.

Some scenes were so impressively filmed that I almost felt as if I were there. You can feel the absolute wildness, the instincts and understand better what is meant by the term food chain.

I hope with my message you could get more impressions about me. :-) As for my appearance, I would rather describe myself as normal. I have blue eyes, a normal stature, although I am said that my shoulders and thighs look attractive to the other person. My hair is dark as you can see. I’m often told that my voice is so deep that it gives you goosebumps - whether that’s a good or bad thing, I guess everyone has to decide for themselves.

I enjoy the peace and the small moments of life. I abhor injustice, possess a curiosity regarding certain aspects, and sometimes I insist too much on my opinion, otherwise I am an affable person. Nevertheless, I have come to the realization that it is not easy to grasp me. So maybe writing is actually a help to express myself better, to show you faster how I am. :-)

Sometimes I tend to be stubborn. For example, it was the reason I had to leave my last job, or I should more correctly say that circumstances forced me to do so. My superiors found out about my homosexuality, told me that I would certainly act out my inclinations in my everyday work (bullshit).

Since I refused to pretend, this was the end. I was not willing to deny what I had worked so hard to achieve, the knowledge of my own identity, for such pronouncements.

This message is so long and still, there is so much more I would like to tell you, and more importantly, there are many other things I would like to ask you. Tell me more, tell me more about you.

May I be honest? Your last message moved me so much that my brain and heart were stimulated in the best way. As if by themselves, words wrote down on paper. Words inspired only by you and by our correspondence.

And I wanted to share the rough draft version of a poem with you. Maybe to show you how much your messages stir me up, maybe to flirt even more. Since you flirted with me so much in the last message, I wanted to return the favor. Please don’t take it as pushing, it was just my spirit of longing. :-)

" _The wheels tenderly kiss the asphalt-cotton_  
_Sinking and drifting and sinking and racing_

_Road and time fly away from me like eagles_  
_Infinite expanse embraces our car with us_  
_Grounds us here while we reach for future_  
_Sun’s rays drawing a picture so bright_

_Drum, drum, drum, drum, drum_

_The car fights as our partner in crime_  
_Tells what was, asks what should, sees what will_  
_Powerful the engine roars_  
_A duet with your whistling now_

_Mm, mm, mm, mm, mm_

_Nature’s grip reaches into our pores_  
_Still secreting sweat, drop by drop_  
_Warming sunbeams of blazing heat -_  
_From outside what is now inside_  
_Locked away treasure of sweet love-making_

_Drum, drum, drum, drum, drum_

_Around us the origin, truth, wildness_  
_That our souls cry out to each other_  
_Intertwined hands, caressing, gently_  
_Drumming fingers on the steering wheel_

_To the rhythm of our hearts_

_Our secrets dance a tango_  
_Twirling the fears in the corners_  
_Our twin-joy jumping in a quickstep_  
_Merging our bodies equals our souls_

_To the rhythm of my heart_

_You laugh, only you_  
_The sound, not only vibrating, free_  
_A magic, otherworldly, but deep from you_

_Side glance, my gaze catches yours_

_Where is the world?_  
_Outside, far away, floating_  
_Where am I?_  
_Deep in you, as you in me_

_Nature’s green fades in light of your eyes,_  
_That spray life, store me inside_  
_Draw me to you closer, ever closer_  
_Intenser than your hands on me_  
_Than the backseat memories_

_The road flies towards the horizon, always –_  
_We float towards each other and are_  
_More tightly woven than the web of hostility_

_Each thought a unique gem of our souls_  
_Each talk a nerve in our profound bond’s system_

_We stand now_  
_Then we walk,_  
_Sit down on the hood_  
_Ours –_  
_The place where we belong_

_A glance_  
_Hands hunting, exploring, never pressuring_  
_You – you_  
_Catch me_  
_Throw me upwards_  
_Drown me_  
_Capture me_

_A glance_  
_Lips_  
_Seeking_  
_Finding_  
_Knowing_  
_Telling_

_A glance_  
_We, lost in here and in us_

_A glance_  
_The road without a fixed direction_

_Flying, into infinity_

_A glance_  
_The unknown parts_  
_A beautiful variety_  
_Waiting to be explored_

_The road_  
_Our paths_  
_Diversions, dead ends, turns_

_A look away and into us_

_When I look at you_  
_I see us_  
_Understood_  
_Synergy_

_Us – as we should communicate_

_In our exchanges of words_  
_I feel bliss and truth so deep within_  
_In our moments of silence_  
_We speak more than others their whole life_

_Us – as we should exist_

_Not covered in guilt’s impenetrable dust_  
_Not hidden under shame’s blankets_  
_Not driving on other’s expectations_  
_Not repainted with the mask of wrong_

_Us – doing what is meant to be_

_The asphalt of our lives_  
_That we shape in union_  
_Matching our souls symphony_ “

Sweet dreams, (my) beautiful rambler. :-)

Yours,  
AngelMuses"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes his whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody’s expense but his own.“  
> -> As mentioned: This quote is from "Moby-Dick" by Herman Melville
> 
> There will be more real-life-chaos next time. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I appreciate your support a lot. Please let me know what you think. :) 
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. 
> 
> Next chapter will be posted on February 10! :)


	14. Out of the rain and into the fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 14. As announced, there'll be more chaos in real life again. :)
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Castiel**

"Do you want my professional or my friendly advice?“  
Castiel gasped, only now realizing that he had just held his breath. Closing his eyes, he dipped his head deep under the water, allowing the bubbles to perl against his skin, enjoying the drumming forming a unison with his mental calming mantra until he felt a pleasant tingling sensation on his cheeks and lips. He came back to the surface, and was immediately met with a reproving look.

"Diving won’t help, Cassie,“ Balthazar purred, obviously trying for a playful tone. Despite this teasing manner, Castiel knew that his best friend had no intention of teasing him or driving him up the wall. If he felt like it, he would do just that.

But Balthazar knew him well enough to know when a serious talk was the better choice, and Castiel appreciated that side of him. Contrary to his ironic and occasionally cutting comments, Balthazar distinguished himself above all by levelheadedness and impenetrable honesty.

The salt-tanged air befuddled Castiel’s senses. By now, the beads of sweat and the salt of the water had mixed, and Castiel soaked up the cleansing effect. Although a pile of work still awaited him, he couldn’t always barricade himself in his office at the university or in his apartment.

He hadn’t spent time with Balthazar for a while, a fact he was very sorry about. Usually, either he was too involved in his essays, his classes or his novel, or Balthazar was taking care of his clients and trying to win the next case for himself.

"I know. The situation is just wearing on my nerves.“ He snorted in annoyance because he really didn’t want to think about that pushy woman. Ruby. The fact that he even knew what her name was only put the proverbial cherry on top of this absurd situation. "To answer your question, both, I guess.“

"Okay, my friendly advice is - run as fast as you can. Don’t go back to that coffee shop you’re so fond of. That should do the trick. Really, you should never have told that in the interview.“  
Castiel rolled his eyes. "Anything else?“

"I think that’s it. Lie low, go on living your life as normally as possible, and ignore her for now. She’s harmless. I mean, she just talked to you and left, right? Just adores your book - and gay sex, obviously.“

"And your professional advice?“  
"Confrontation. Make an appearance on some talk show or radio. Get the police involved, put out a description of the person. Better to intervene early. I’ll take care of the lawyer thing.“

Castiel shook his head. "I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. So far, she hasn’t done anything to press charges with.“

"Fine, have it your way. But I’ll still prepare something in the direction of the injunction. Please send me again in detail what you remember from the encounters. All right?“

Balthazar had gone completely into lawyer mode, and it did Castiel good to see him approaching the matter so rationally. For him, the lady’s intrusive behavior had been just a reason to hole up even more over the past few days. At the university, at his brother’s, and at home.

His only luck was that she did not know his real name, only his pseudonym. Crowley and the publisher also did everything they could to keep the name under wraps. That was the only reason he hadn’t gone crazy yet. The fact that her behavior couldn’t harm him. Not really.

No one knew his true identity. No one except his brother, his parents, Bathazar, Crowley, and the initiated publishing staff. They had decided to take that step at the time to avoid any hate mail from homophobic people. Now it turned out that the decision had been spot on, even if this case was completely different.

Balthazar raised his eyebrows and his lips curled in a sneer. Castiel knew immediately that he was in for an exhausting conversation. His best friend was nowhere near as probing as Gabriel, yet he had a very inquisitive manner about him when he really wanted to learn a secret.

"What else is new? You don’t have to tell me, but you know it would make you feel better.“

Castiel opened his eyes, sighed, and massaged his temples. "I’m making good progress on the new book, but it seems a little anemic to me in places. You know what I mean? I’m writing and writing, planning the plot, but sometimes the passion gets lost in all the organization.“

"Mm,“ Balthazar replied, silent for a few seconds. "Structure is key, if you ask me, but I see your point. You know what helps? Distraction. You need to do more, be around people more, and you’ll get back into a more natural writing flow. Inspiring meetings with your students alone is not guaranteed to get the next romance novel down on paper. Unless you, well, shift those relationships a little.“ Castiel snorted in annoyance and sank deeper into the water.

"Balthazar,“ he said threateningly.  
"Right, I am terribly sorry. Poor example. You know I didn’t mean it.“ Castiel made a noise of agreement, and pedaling underwater, feeling how nervous he was getting inside. The fact that his last job as a teacher at the night school had been lost to him because rumors of his homosexuality had gotten out, still stung him.

Both the principal and various outsiders had confronted him with rumors, so he had finally seen no other solution but to resign. Otherwise, he probably would have been kicked out on the spot, under some flimsy reason.

In the end, however, it all depended on how many people accused him of making advances on the students. How anyone could logically come to this conclusion was a complete mystery to him. Heterosexual teachers were not usually accused of getting into bed with their students. Castiel felt anger when he thought about this subject again.

"I know. You just wanted me to understand that real encounters stimulate the mind. It’s all right, my friend,“ Castiel finally replied. He stroked his arms thoughtfully and leaned back in the water. At least his headache had gone away by now.

"I met someone,“ Castiel finally said. "A man,“ he added superfluously, for such a statement would be immediately deciphered by Balthazar anyway. Strictly speaking, he had actually met two men recently, but he didn’t want to think about Dean at the moment.

Castiel had been looking forward to striking up a friendship with him, but Dean’s note had turned out to be false. The book club had not taken place. There were moments when he had thought about asking Gabriel in which car shop he had gotten his car repaired. He had decided against it, though, since he didn’t want to be too bothersome. He didn’t want to annoy Dean.

"Oh, Cassie, here come the interesting talks. Tell me more.“ Castiel described to him in a few words how he had come across the notes in the library and finally contacted RambleOn on Geekatism. He didn’t elaborate on the content of the messages, but was clarifying it for his friend how deep and emotional and special their exchange was.

"Sounds like the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. What’s the catch?“ Castiel frowned, certainly not wanting to discuss now that initiating an online acquaintance was dangerous and often hopeless.

"So far, I haven’t found one. We’re taking it slow, if one can put it that way,“ Castiel replied hesitantly.

"I’m glad you have this thing going on, but do me a favor and look out for your heart. You have to live in the real world, Castiel. Don’t lose yourself in those messages. Make sure you two lovebirds meet at some point.“ Castiel sighed.

Balthazar cleared his throat. "I’m just saying that I learned what this can lead to. One of my clients thought she found true love online. A dating platform. They texted each other. So much. They were writing raunchy messages to each other. Do you know what it all led to? He got her to send her most of her savings, and on top of that, used naked pictures of her as a means of blackmail. This will be a tough case in court because he covered his tracks so well. I’m just saying, watch your back.“

"I will be careful, of course. But the circumstances of our getting to know each other didn’t just come from the Geekatism messages, after all. Do you understand? I would never have written to him if I hadn’t been amazed by his intellect in the library before.“ It was true.

The great effort his interlocutor had evidently put into the little messages had stirred something in him. Castiel hated having to come to RambleOn’s defense at all. There was no reason to. RambleOnIm67 was a wonderful person.

Thinking of his mail partner, Castiel smiled slightly. In the morning he had seen that the other had already written him a short "intermediate message“ to his long answer.  
It had been really sweet. In fact, Castiel had enjoyed it so much he had printed it out, so he could look at it during the day. By now, he had read the text so often he knew it from memory.

" _Dear Angel, I’ve never wanted to take somebody into my arms so badly. Thank you, man. For your comforting words, the tales about you and the poem (obviously). It was so beautiful. I had such a vivid scene in mind. Could feel the stuff you’ve written about. Holy shit. My entire body is trembling with joy. Right now, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to concentrate on anything today. Will be thinking about you a lot._

_Do you wanna talk about this current rock bottom you mentioned? You can tell me, or really just write me anything that helps you. I could also give you one of my short dream-travel-stories. Invent one, rather. I used to tell them to my brother a long, long time ago. He always seemed to get calmer hearing them. Just an offer._

_That being said, please be patient with me. I gotta work a lot the next days (not looking forward to some tasks). Plus, today I’ll help a friend again after work. I do want to exchange more texts with you until then, though. You’re up for that?_

_Damn, you’re not only musing and a muse – you’re also the creator yourself. An enchanting one. :-)_

_What are your plans for today? You’re on a another spy mission? ;-) Damn, it’s good to know you. And- Hope that’s not too upfront: With every aspect I learn about you, you seem more interesting and alluring and fascinating and familiar all at once. Until then. Although I never do that – I’ll also send you a virtual hug. Have a good day, dork._ “

Castiel turned his attention back to the here and now.

Deep down, Castiel knew that this thing between them was sincere and pure and real. The likelihood that anyone would even find these library notes, let alone follow up on the clues, was so slim that an impostor would never invest his time in it. It didn’t make any sense.

He described all this to Balthazar in detail, and now he did reveal a few details of their correspondence. Eventually, Balthazar was persuaded by his words and seemed altogether more reassured.

"You’re probably right. You’re not an online dating type anyway because you’re so cautious,“ Balthazar remarked, whereupon Castiel laughed, rolling his eyes. "I think you know what you’re doing, and I’m happy for you. I think you will find the right pace for this. You two have gotten to know each other rather well, so far. The way you described his messages sound too unique to be an act. It’s just that I would refrain from monetary payments and nude pictures for now.“

Castiel glanced to the side and saw Balthazar wink in amusement. He was feeling better. It was good that Balthazar was the way he was; it was in his nature to be suspicious and to rely on facts.

Balthazar tended to be too protective of him. As always, Castiel was grateful to him; after all, Balthazar had been the one who had saved him from a mental breakdown back then. The one who had preached to him that he would be grief-stricken if he married Meg.

Of course, Balthazar had been right, but at that time this step, the separation, had been as difficult for him as nothing else in his life. His parents and his future in-laws had planned everything perfectly, and they still got along famously. And Castiel sometimes felt so helpless when he thought about the fact that he could never be in the same room with Meg again.

At the time, he had still thought his confession about homosexuality would destroy everything. In the end, though, neither of them had been any good to each other. Meg had not been as involved in their relationship as she had made everyone believe. That much had been clear in the end. Each in his own way had damaged their relationship, although it hadn’t necessarily happened with ill intent.

Many times he had been on the verge of contacting her and talking things out, but always he had chickened out at the last moment. Because it was better that way. Again Castiel sighed because he couldn’t and wouldn’t think about Meg and the consequences of her decisions.

At the door of the thermal bath, they said goodbye. After a long hug, Castiel sighed because he had thought of something else.  
"Can I ask you one more favor?“

Balthazar looked at him blankly, gesturing for him to continue. "Can you ask around in your circles for specialists on family law? Especially libel cases and the like.“  
"You’re not asking that for yourself.“

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Obviously not, no. I’d just like to gather some information for a friend. Seeing the odds. Just in case.“  
"Okay. Consider it done. On one condition.“  
"What’s that?“  
"There are two female colleagues of mine who are so dotty about "Sun-Kissed“ you wouldn’t believe. One has been raving about it to me at regular intervals for two years now.“

"You mentioned that once, yes,“ Castiel said, blushing a little. He still wasn’t good at handling situations and compliments like this.

"She literally said your book was the most heartbreaking shit she’d ever read. After the bittersweet ending, she said she ran into the field to scream and then rolled in the grass giggling until she cried.“

Castiel laughed at the vivid description. "Bring me the books, I’ll be happy to sign them. Just don’t mention that you know me in person. Tell them you know someone from the publishers or else.“

They said their goodbyes and promised to keep the other updated about the circumstances.

Shaking his head, Castiel continued walking. Lost in thought as he was, he didn’t even notice that he had walked to the coffee shop, of all places. Not good. A quick glance in the shop window told him that the lady who was convinced he wasn’t gay, but just had a fetish, wasn’t there.

But he had a funny premonition, and so he ran away as if stung by a tarantula. He ran and ran and ran until his lungs hurt. In front of him was a building. Nondescript, old, probably more than a hundred years old.

From inside he heard music, loud voices and laughter. The main door was open. He saw a foyer of sorts, which directly led to a main hall.

What moved him to go further, he could not define in retrospect. Perhaps it was the fact that the house reminded him of his own apartment building. Perhaps it was the sight of beautiful graffiti on the outside wall, showing huge and full-packed bookshelves.

Perhaps the sounds of "Here Comes the Rain Again“ by Eurythmics he heard from within caused this urge for a change of scenery.

And so he went inside.

Panting, Castiel closed the door behind him. The first thing he noticed was the loud background noise. No noise he wanted to escape, rather the sounds resembled many buzzing bees, the rustling of leaves underfoot, and a rhythmic clicking like an old pendulum clock. He was in some sort of youth center, or so it seemed to Castiel.

If the building had looked run-down and downright abandoned from the outside, he now recognized its character. Someone had taken great pains to give this building an individual, yet recognizable touch.

The walls had recently been completely repainted. In front of the walls lay many colorful pillows, large cushions and blankets. In a corner to his left was a bar with a massive counter, which Gabriel would have loved. Tables and beer benches had been placed at every conceivable place in the large room.

"Into the fire,“ he muttered, only now noticing the rest of his surroundings. Again and again, people of all different ages were walking around. Men, women, young people, children, everyone had come together. Castiel quickly made out the reason for this large crowd.

Large posters told him that twice a week food and clothing donation for the needy was taking place here. Castiel quickly skimmed the poster. There was talk of donations, of looking for volunteers, of joint movie nights, comedy and other performances. Whoever was organizing this was in full force - and that warmed Castiel’s heart.

With a smile, Castiel noted that all these people, though so different, all got along just fine. They laughed, sang, jeered, ate, and some just kept silent together. Castiel immediately felt at ease.

Although many people came here because they were in need, they always had a friendly smile for the others. Apparently, his appearance had not gone unnoticed despite the hustle and bustle because now a young woman was walking toward him.

Even from a distance, Castiel caught her irrepressible energy and positive aura. With a broad grin, she stopped in front of him and put her hands on her hips.

With her red hair, she looked like a vigorous viking, and Castiel was instantly fascinated by her. Now she was laughing out loud, so openly and heartily that Castiel couldn’t help but find her incredibly likeable. This self-confident woman belonged to the people in charge here, there was no doubt in his mind about that.

"Okay, fuzz, who’s hunting you, and what brings you to our little project here? Speak up, we’re all talking openly here.“ She looked at him excitedly. Castiel suppressed a smirk. She would be hard to fool. He wasn’t interrogated, Castiel reminded himself.

"There’s a woman following me. She thinks she can convert me,“ Castiel replied, surprising himself with his candor.

"Convert. From what?“ The young woman let her gaze sweep over him again. Not suggestively, just curious and inquiring. "Oh, I get it.“ Now, inexplicably, she gave a thumbs-up.

"Is there anything I can do to offer my assistance?“ asked Castiel, no longer wanting to be considered just an interloper. In fact, he felt like helping out with the food. It would do him good, and if it meant he could improve others‘ days, that was the best he could hope for anyway.

"Glad you asked.“ The redhead clapped her hands joyfully. "We could actually use some help. For one thing, I need a break. For another, any helping hand is always appreciated. I’m Charlie, by the way.“ She held out her hand to him, and Castiel returned the handshake with a genuine smile. "Castiel,“ he introduced himself, which she acknowledged with the frown people always gave him afterwards.

"Castiel.“ She repeated his name several times, always emphasizing it a little differently, as if trying to find the deeper meaning behind it. "That’s a rather unusual name, isn’t it? Sounds religious.“ She was quick, intelligent.

"It is, indeed,“ Castiel said, nodding. Still looking at him insistently, Castiel slowly wondered if perhaps he still had wet hair from the thermal bath or something hanging in the corner of his mouth.

"Wait a minute.“ Charlie grinned broadly. "Oh, Marlin, you little motherfucker,“ she mumbled and giggled. Now Castiel didn’t understand anything at all and tilted his head. He interjected a meaningless "What?“ and cleared his throat a few times.

The next moment Charlie grabbed his hand and dragged him along. Castiel turned his head over his shoulder as if he could ask someone else behind him for advice. Charlie continued to mumble his name to herself until at some point she threw the question, "So you like dancing, huh?“ into the room.  
"Yes?“ Castiel replied, unable to follow her train of thought.

Finally, they came to a stop in front of another counter behind which the kitchen was visible. It took Castiel only a few seconds to take in his surroundings. Charlie, meanwhile, had let go of his hand, and disappeared behind the counter.

Perhaps she was looking for the right person to brief him. Then Castiel heard a shout. "Marlin! Where the hell are you?“ Charlie really was a wild one. Laughing, Castiel shook his head, ignoring the awkwardness he felt. In social situations like this he often felt the urge to vanish. A few times he tapped the soles of his feet on the ground until he heard Charlie’s voice again. She was still looking for this Marlin, apparently.

"What is going on with you, Dory?“ a man asked gruffly, and suddenly Castiel’s heartbeat sped up a bit. He turned sidewards, lifted his gaze and immediately met the emerald eyes that pulled the ground from under his feet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song referenced: "Here Comes the Rain Again“ by Eurythmics (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TzFnYcIqj6I)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Please let me know what you think. :) 
> 
> Since this chapter ended on a (small) cliffhanger, I intend to upload the next chapter soon - hopefully later today. :)


	15. The bubbling spring

**Castiel**

"Dean?“ Castiel asked at the same moment Dean exclaimed, "Cas!“. They laughed, kept laughing, until a certain tension developed between them. Castiel swallowed. His eyes had lost themselves in the other’s again.

"So you’re not avoiding me.“ The other crossed his arms in front of his chest, as he had done back in the club, and raised his left eyebrow. In vain Castiel tried not to let this stir him up.

"In fact, I am running from a pushy woman,“ Castiel said with a shrug. Dean snorted, and still Castiel felt that strange tension settle over them. Their mutual staring was only interrupted by Charlie punching Dean on the shoulder.

"This is Cas!“ she exclaimed, raising her arms in the air as if his presence brought a whole new significance to the room.

Dean growled. "I’m aware,“ he muttered, lowering his gaze. What did that exchange mean? Had Dean been talking about him in her presence? And if so, what things had he told her?

"Dean, you’re unbelievable,“ Charlie said, falling into an outright fit of laughter. "When you told me about that guy you had such a good time with and danced - I cite - 'in a smoking hot way', I didn’t think that-“  
"What?“ Dean asked, and Castiel didn’t miss the threatening undertone.  
"That he’s also so charismatic and adorable.“

"Sure, he is- I mean-“ Dean groaned, glancing at Castiel. "Cas, let’s- I’m gonna show you the stuff. Ya know. The kitchen.“  
Charlie laughed again, murmuring to Castiel that she’d go to the clothing drive. Then she patted him kindly on the back.

"Sorry for that,“ Dean grumbled as they walked to the kitchen. Because of local conditions, only a few inches separated them, and again Castiel grew nervous.

"That’s my best friend. She can be very-“  
"Endearing?“ asked Castiel, reflexively touching Dean’s shoulder. "It’s okay. I like her a lot.“

"You do, huh?“ Castiel didn’t understand the question, and immediately realized Dean’s voice had changed. Was Dean mad at him? Why? By now they had arrived in the kitchen. Dean didn’t say anything at all, simply told him briefly what they were going to do and what the next steps were.

"We’ll start by cleaning the dishes, we definitely need more plates and forks. Almost none left.“ Dean nodded at the other persons present. "They prepare the food, portion it and stuff.“ The others briefly introduced themselves, then continued with their work. Dean strictly avoided eye contact with him which itched Castiel. He didn’t like it. It seemed wrong. "We’ll hand the food out once we’re finished here.“

Dean continued with his constructions for another minute, still not looking at him. His demeanor was distant, he seemed as if he wanted to be elsewhere.

And yet.

As soon as Dean finally looked at him, Castiel recognized a wild whirlwind of passion, vivacity and kindness. It seemed so intimate, like it was only reserved for him. Which, of course, was a ridiculous thought.

"Got that?“ Dean’s harsh voice interrupted his observations. Castiel felt irritated and confused.

"Have I done something wrong, Dean?“ asked Castiel, trying to bridge the now awkward silence. Dean hastily lifted his gaze, picked up the nearest plate, threw it straight into the water, and dipped his hands in.  
"Naah, never mind.“ Castiel didn’t like the tone of Dean’s voice. It was distant, almost cold.

"Tell me,“ Castiel said more pressingly than intended.  
"It’s just- I figured we had a good time those two nights. Dammit, at least I had.“ Dean drew in a sharp breath.  
"Of course,“ Castiel confirmed.

"M’kay. But you never showed.“ Dean glanced at him, eyebrows creased. "The book club. Was kinda convinced I’d never see you again.“  
"I did show,“ Castiel insisted, understanding now that they had misunderstood each other.

He rummaged in the inside pocket of his trench coat until he found his wallet. Hastily, he opened it. His fingers briefly brushed RambleOn’s explanatory notes on Baby from the library, then he found the note Dean had given him in the bar.

Quickly he walked to him and held the piece of paper out to him. "1 p.m. I was there. Twice. And there was nobody present, not a single person in or even outside this building. Everything was dark.“ Now Dean pulled his fingers out of the water as hastily as if he had burned himself. He hissed and moved his hand frantically up and down, a gesture Castiel inevitably found cute.

"Dude, what the hell.“ Dean glanced at the note, shook his head, looked at the note again, and smacked his forehead with the flat of his hand.

"That’s a 7, all right? No 1, a frigging 7. I cannot believe you thought I’d invite you to a book club that’s at midday. On a workday.“ At the same moment, an audacious smirk tugged at Dean’s lips, instantly bathing his entire face in light and illuminating the entire room. He really had an engaging charisma.

"The prominent character is definitely straight, and the little bar is missing,“ Castiel replied indignantly, narrowing his eyes as he couldn’t suppress a smirk.

He couldn’t help but take in the absurd dimensions of their conversation. Again Dean studied the paper, and his grin grew wider and more liberated by the second.

"Right.“ Dean laughed and little dimples graced his cheeks. "You’re such a dork, ya know that? Frigging adorable.“ Dean nodded at him, and Castiel enjoyed the fact that the tension between them had been replaced by another.

Suddenly, Dean seemed changed, as his entire posture relaxed and just invited Castiel in. He wore that mischievous laugh on his lips again, the one that made Castiel’s lips tingle irrevocably. Dean dried his hands, grinned broadly at him one more time, and pulled him into a hug. His body was warm and he smelled good.

Afterwards, they cleaned the dishes together and talked about this and that. Dean was in a much better mood than last time, but Castiel didn’t dare ask if his family situation had improved meanwhile.

Although a certain natural trust had developed between them, such an advance seemed too personal for him. If Dean wanted to talk about his situation, his fears and feelings, he would certainly consult other people first to do so. Not him, a stranger he barely knew.

However, he was delighted that Dean appeared so radiant again, not as worry-driven and hopeless as he had seemed when he had talked to him in his apartment.

"You are in a better place,“ Castiel said.  
Dean looked up, caught his gaze immediately and swallowed. "Yeah. I am. You did help with that, by the way. Other people in my life as well. And this guy I told you about. He’s very sensitive and gives me stuff to think about.“

"I’m glad,“ Castiel said with much sincerity. Seeing Dean smile was a pleasant sight. Moreover, he felt lucky Dean considered him one of the persons helping him with his struggles. They were really forming a friendship, he thought.

"What about you?“ Dean asked while Castiel placed another plate on the high tower he had built by now. With thoroughness, Dean cleaned the next plate, leaving no spot unattended.

"I’m stressed. This woman who is so eager to meet me strains my nerves. Other than that work occupies me. I have some things to finish. Some students are panicking due to the essay assignment I gave them.“

Dean looked him up and down. "You’re not a cruel teacher,“ he said, and Castiel wondered how he could possibly know that. "That’s good. Harshness only creates suffering. A bit severeness in the right places seems appropriate. But I abhor this certain tone if it’s uncalled-for and just for a demonstration or rather misuse of power.“ Castiel nodded and smiled at Dean’s insightful words.

"I agree. That woman. Is she harassing ya?“ His voice sounded rough now, like a fighter, Castiel noticed.  
"No, no, nothing like that. Well, maybe a little. She is just very, very intrigued by me and my work, I presume.“

Again, Dean shot him a look, studying him in an intense way. "Can see why. Still, that’s way over the top. Hope you’ll get rid of her soon. Lemme know if I can help you in any way.“ Then, he patted Castiel’s arm for a few seconds before cursing loudly. When Castiel looked at him bemusedly, Dean laughed. "Should’ve dried my hands first.“

After this remark, Castiel was given no choice. He took a clean towel and put it onto Dean’s hands, wiping the drops off them. He grinned at Dean who shook his head in much apparent disbelief. "At this point, I don’t even know what to say anymore. You’re so weird - which is awesome, by the way.“

They both chuckled and continued with their work. Dean was astoundingly easy to talk with. He never pressed but was truly observing and analytic. He drew conclusions others wouldn’t think of with the vague things Castiel remarked from time to time.

For example, Castiel told him about his recent mood changes when writing was involved. Dean simply looked at him, told him that writing wasn’t about the perfection, sometimes it was about the journey. About the things one could learn. While bringing the characters to life, deciding about their fates, getting into their minds, one would automatically deal with personal issues and get new insights.

Eventually, Dean directed him to the serving counter, and Castiel quickly got into a rhythm. It did him good to help people, especially since there was a boisterous atmosphere. A pop song was playing in the background which Castiel liked very much. It was joyful and gave him hope.

When he asked what the title was, Dean eyed him incredulously for a moment until he answered "Rather Be“ and mumbled something about his knowledge of current pop culture leaving something to be desired. At this, however, he smiled so broadly that Castiel was inevitably amused. Castiel decided to look for the song at home.

As he quickly became accustomed to the activity, he automatically noticed Dean’s behavior more clearly. He was open and boosting with energy, and he greeted every visitor with a friendly "Hiya“ or "Hey“. What particularly struck Castiel, however, were Dean’s accompanying comments.

He never simply handed over the food with a "Enjoy your meal!“, instead he possessed a talent for picking out a characteristic feature based on the short sentences he exchanged with his counterpart, and at the same time giving them an individual and somehow appropriate motivational sentence along the way.

Castiel realized Dean not only wanted to brighten their days but also tried to save them from giving up on themselves.

Apart from sentences like "You shape your own future. I mean, _you’re the doc, Doc_ “ or "It’s possible. Just make 'em an offer they can’t refuse“, Castiel didn’t always understand which movie or TV show Dean was referring to, but he liked this personal touch immensely. It was inspiring. 

This deep insight, the penchant for intense observation and analysis, and not least his enthusiasm for movies reminded Castiel a little of RambleOnIm67.

By now the line had emptied, and Dean was engrossed in a conversation with a man in his 50s. From snippets of conversation, Castiel gathered that the man had recently gotten an apartment again, but was otherwise only just keeping his head above water.  
Dean was very attentive, not only dismissing the other man with empty phrases, but also waiting a few seconds after each statement, apparently weighing his words before answering.

Castiel was fascinated by this, as he had experienced Dean as impulsive and quick-witted above all. Certainly, he had also witnessed his profound nature, especially after their dances in the bar. Nevertheless. The fact that he also dealt in this way with more or less strangers touched him.

After they had fed everyone, Dean leaned against the wall behind him. "Mmm,“ he said, humming. Three more "Mmms“ followed until he made a sound that definitely resembled a giggle.

Castiel furrowed his brow and looked questioningly at Dean. The other sighed, apparently trying to suppress a laugh, and quickly approached him.

His eyes scanned him once from top to bottom, finally lingering on his face. "Dude, you have flour in your face. You’re a lifelike painting of falling snow. How’d you manage to achieve that, huh?“ Before Castiel could say something or even blink, he felt Dean’s thumb on forehead, his cheeks and then on his nose.

"There. Looking even more smooth now. _You know, sometimes I amaze even myself._ “ Castiel laughed - he understood that Star Wars reference, and Dean had done an excellent imitation of Han Solo.

"You really like your movies, don’t you?“ asked Castiel without derision.  
"Sure. There are so many good ones. In fact, they’re so fantastic they’d knock you off your feet, man.“

Castiel laughed and could no longer suppress the chuckles that followed. "You remind me of a friend,“ Castiel finally admitted, feeling a great deal of warmth as he thought of RambleOnIm67.

"So you dig music a lot, huh?“ Dean’s voice had become particularly soft at the last words.

Castiel raised his eyebrows in amazement. "Very much so. How do you know?“  
"Saw the clef pendant on your wallet. Couldn’t help but notice.“ Dean shrugged. "Gave me an idea for, um, an activity we could do sometime. Remind me to tell you about it, 'kay?“ Castiel was pleased that Dean was so open and already more or less scheduled him in leisure activities.

"Of course.“ Castiel looked at him for a few moments, again thinking about casually asking Dean for his cell phone number, until finally, he just said what he felt like.

"Hereby, I want to remind you to invite me to that activity you were teasing about,“ Castiel said dryly.

Castiel looked at Dean with a serious expression, although inside he was laughing at his joke. He didn’t often joke out of the situation, but when he did, he did it pointedly.

Dean grinned. "You’re something else, ya know that?“ Dean shook his head.  
"Okay, it seems like we’re both being cautious about the whole trusting-a-stranger-too-quickly-thing. I guess after last time, we’ve totally passed that point, strictly speaking, but there’s something about it somehow. These meetings out of nowhere. I’m thinking of making a deal. Interested?“

" _You talkin‘ to me?_ “

Now Dean fell into a booming laugh. "Way to go with the quoting. Am proud of ya.“ Dean grinned. "All right. Let’s say if we haven’t lost track of each other by December 19, we take a little trip.“

"What’s on December 19?“  
"That, pal, you’ll find out. But you’ll like it. We’ll meet on the 19th at 7 a.m. in front of your brother’s club. The rest remains a surprise for now. If you don’t come, it’s okay. I’ll go anyway. If you come - frigging awesome.“ Dean shrugged and wiggled his eyebrows immediately after.

"I like surprises.“ Castiel smiled at Dean. In truth, surprises made him nervous inside, but in this case, Dean’s childlike anticipation really infected him. Somehow it was an absurd arrangement they had made here, but still Castiel liked the prospects.

"Then I’ll see you at the book club?“ asked Dean, also smiling. "Can’t come next time since I’m outta town. In two weeks, maybe?“ His eyes twinkled with euphoria.  
"I’d like that.“

***

When Castiel finally made himself comfortable in his apartment, another short message from RambleOnIm67 was waiting for him, only a few minutes old.

Immediately, Castiel’s body felt warm. He was excited, more excited than he had felt in forever. In fact, every inch of his body prickled.

Most importantly, his mind felt fresh and stimulated – and he hadn’t even read the message. Castiel was overwhelmed by his reactions.

It was as if he bathed in a pure and constantly bubbling spring, solely consisting of sweet **r** apture, **o** rigin and **im** pulses.

R. O. Im. – RambleOnIm67.

Castiel felt content his mind had created this association. He bit his lips and opened the message.

" _Tough day, but part of it was also very relieving and fun. Work’s made me hungry. Look what I’ve conjured. A certain somebody has put me in a good mood since this morning. Duh. It was you, Angel. :-)_ “

Attached was a photo of a plate, deliberately placed on an old wooden table. On the plate was an excellent-looking burger, obviously homemade. Castiel’s stomach growled.

Next, Castiel surveyed the side dish and laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes. RambleOnIm67 had created angel wings out of potatoes and lettuce.

Without further ado, he typed a message:

" _You do have a talent for appetizing a man. ;-) Thank you for cheering me up._ “

Three minutes later came the answer of the other.

" _I’m a man of many talents... Some benefit only me, some benefit the people I share them with._ “

A minute later another message followed.

" _You still awake, Angel? I’m already half asleep. Sleep-deprived again, the entire week will even busier than I anticipated. Replying in depth will take me a few days, also need to get into the right mindset._ “

Another message popped up directly after the last one. Castiel smiled to himself. RambleOnIm67 really was a captivating and thrilling person. Again, his entire body tingled in a way he had never experienced before.

" _Wasn’t trying to chase you away from your retro laptop, by the way. How do I know it’s retro I ask? Well, just an educated guess. I am awesome, after all. Am right though, ain’t I?_ “

Castiel shook his head in disbelief. RambleOnIm67 was so amusing. He could not stop laughing anymore. He felt all giddy and goofy all of a sudden.

" _Drank another coffee. Will keep me awake for, mm, I dunno an hour or so. Depends on the activity I’ll indulge in, I suppose. Could just listen to some music or read or go for a quick walk or stare at the ceiling or watch a movie or contemplate some more. Or...?!_ “

And another message. 

" _Dammit, buddy, you could need a teacher for skills in "getting a hint“ as well. Then again, I suppose I’m only typing too fast for an elderly man who doesn’t dig tech so much. Ain’t wrong about that one, huh?_ “

Castiel sent the text, “ _I understand basic technology, thank you very much. My excellent knowledge and skills needed in other métiers. ;-) And yes, I would like to exchange some shorter chat messages with you for a while._ “

At the same moment he received the message, “ _Sweet Angel, wanna chat? :-)_ “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song mentioned: "Rather Be" by Clean Bandit feat. Jess Glynne (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-M1AtrxztU)
> 
> Movies referenced or quoted:
> 
> "You’re the doc, Doc.“ → from "Back to the Future Part II"
> 
> "Just make 'em an offer they can’t refuse“ → based on the quote "I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.“ from "The Godfather"  
> → Obviously Dean didn’t imply or suggest any violent behavior with this sentence. 
> 
> "You know, sometimes I amaze even myself." → from Star Wars: A New Hope (Episode IV)
> 
> "You talkin‘ to me?“ → from "Taxi Driver"
> 
> I’m @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading and your support! Please let me know what you think. :)
> 
> Next chapter will be online on February 13!


	16. In purity lies beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 16. This one's a bit angsty due to some topics they write about. (So: Warnings for homophobia and mentioned child abuse/abandonment.)
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Dean**

Although Dean had already written numerous voluminous and many small messages back and forth with Angel over the past few weeks, the chat situation felt different. It was probably because they would be communicating much more directly, with virtually no lag time. 

Dean had gone back into flirt mode pretty darn quickly anyway, a quick repartee would only get him going more. Now it would become apparent if he could draw Angel out even further and maybe cheer the other up a bit. 

Grinning, he walked over to his stereo and searched for some music that would get him in the right mood. He looked through his CDs, shaking his head over and over again, until the 90s compilation fell into his hands. When he had bought it, he had been heartbroken for the first time in his life. Over Lisa Braeden who had dumped him before prom with a lame excuse. 

Dean furrowed his forehead and instead recalled the good things he associated with the CD. A smile stole onto his face. Yes, this was perfect. He threw himself back on the sofa and zipped through the songs, stubbornly skipping tracks like "(Everything I Do) I Do It For You". 

Dean glanced at the clock and puffed. Almost 11 p.m. already. He really should sleep if he wanted to be fit for the next day’s ride to Cleveland. The fucking long ride. Well. An hour more or less wouldn’t hurt. At least, he was used to long rides and could pause to sleep some more. And so he typed the next message. 

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Hi, Angel. So glad you’re here. Kinda right beside me._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Okay, now I just sound like a guy with no filter, do I?_

**AngelMuses:**  
_No, you don’t. Or yes, indeed. It depends. You sound like you. ;-)_

**AngelMuses:**  
_Continue._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Fuck, you’re so commanding._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Did you command an Angel’s army in Heaven back in the day or what?_

**AngelMuses:**  
_No, I was never a commander. But I do believe I would make for an excellent commander. In fact, I would lead many battles to victory. My enemies would fear me and my soldiers would admire me. They would show me respect and rely on my judgement._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Pal. You didn’t need to answer that. I was kidding._

**AngelMuses:**  
_I KNOW. ;-)_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Oh, now you got me. Not bad, Angel, not bad._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_I figure YOU could also teach me a thing or to. I gotta say the part where you teased your knowledge and skills definitely intrigued me. Go on, I guess. I’m gonna throw myself into the cushions and be very attentive. I’ll be the best student. So eager to profit from that knowledge of yours. :D_

**AngelMuses:**  
_What are you listening to right now?_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_How do you even know?_

**AngelMuses:**  
_You are in a flirty mood again. :-) I told you I noticed things about the way you write._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_A. Hell yeah, I am. B. Music’s just emphasizing this mood, not causing it. C. You do realize I’m in that mood 'cause of you, right? And D. Right now, I’m listening to "Show Me Love" by Robin S. :-) It fits._

**AngelMuses:**  
_I know this song. I’m also listening to it, right now, and I can confirm your statement._

**AngelMuses:**  
_You do wear clothes this time, don’t you?_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Dude... Seriously? :D_

**AngelMuses:**  
_I apologize. I was not trying to lead this conversation into a sexual direction. When you mentioned you were almost naked in one of your messages – the mental image simply distracted me a lot._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Good to know._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_FYI: Although I’m not so touchy-feely in daily life, I am rather physical – with the right person._

**AngelMuses:**  
_You mean cuddly?_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Yes, dude. That._

**AngelMuses:**  
_I keep that in mind. :-)_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_I swear, I wasn’t even gonna tell you that. You just have that effect on me, I s’pose._

**AngelMuses:**  
_Why would you hide this endearing truth from me? From what I’ve learned in our conversations, it’s a thing I hoped for, anyway. I really like it when you write down your thoughts so naturally. It lets my mind fly like it has wings. :-)_

**AngelMuses:**  
_And no, I did not want to create a connection to my username. I am only trying to put my thoughts into words. Writing you always makes me feel and think so much. I have never experienced such a mesmerizing conversation or interaction, in general._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_You’re such a sweetheart, ya know that? Mmm. Now I feel all warm. :-) (Same goes for me, obviously.) Tell me. How was your day?_

**AngelMuses:**  
_It was good. Better, much better than I thought. My best friend and I caught up. We had a good talk. I enjoyed spending time with him. Then I helped some people, and while doing so, another person intrigued me with their behavior patterns and way to speak. Some people just have a natural charisma. It’s like they are born for greatness._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Yeah. I think I know what you mean._

**AngelMuses:**  
_I am glad you enjoyed your day as well, by the way. It sounds exhausting but satisfying the way you described it. :-)_

**AngelMuses:**  
_You mentioned you are out of town. Will you visit your brother?_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Yeah. I’ll leave tomorrow in the morning. After that, I’ll have a job nearby. But I’ll finally see him again._

**AngelMuses:**  
_I’m glad to hear that. :-)_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Thanks. Appreciate it._

Dean wanted to follow up with a message, but instead he paused for a moment. He laughed because Angel was really quick to draw the right conclusions. But maybe the way he had worded it had given it all away. Thoughtfully he pinched the bridge of his nose. He shouldn’t brood so much over the next few days. 

He was happy that Sammy wanted to see him, on the other hand he felt so much anger. For busting his ass for months to take care of Sam’s health, his brother sometimes acted ungrateful. He worked so much, always had, and Sam had been able to live his life the way it was right for the most part, at least in the past. 

For some time, Sam had also had a girlfriend whom he loved, and to whom Dean had not even been properly introduced except for brief encounters at the hospital. He had never spoken more than a few words to her, which sometimes seemed very wrong. Sam had his studies, he wasn’t at odds with dad, he was even in contact with their half-brother Adam. 

Still - especially the last months had turned Sam’s life completely upside down. The examinations, his bouts of weakness, and the treatment had caused him to have to sit out another semester entirely. 

For this semester, he had made an agreement with Cleveland State University. Fortunately, the professors were supportive. At least, and that was the biggest frigging plus, the clinic in the city had a reputation regarding heart diseases which had been such a relief. 

Nevertheless, the whole constellation also made Dean angry. Although the test had shown Dean was the one who was highly intelligent (vastly more intelligent innately than his brother), he had never been given a chance in his youth and early adulthood.

Dean had been the one who his father had forced to do the moronic hunts or rather the private investigations while Sam had been handled with kid gloves. Dean had been the one who had worked two jobs on the side while still in school, while his father had refused to force such menial jobs, as he called them, on Sam. 

Dean had learned early on to deal with this divide within their family dynamic, accepting his role. However, situations in which he encountered or interacted with his family - especially his father - caused many unpleasant emotions within him. 

Dean massaged his temples as he already overthought tomorrow’s situation beforehand. And still, he fought against this existential fear he felt. Why did his dad always have this grip on him?

On some days, it was like he wasn’t only holding him captive with his mean words and unfair accusations, he also had a rope or some similar item attached to him that possessed some spectacular length. 

His heartbeat quickened as he thought of the physical things his dad had done to him in the past. Mostly, the moments had been short, the actual horrors were more psychological. Still. He couldn’t stop thinking. He couldn’t. Right now, he felt too close to all this shit again. 

There was a reason he had moved to an entire different city, state even. He had needed to put an actual distance to his past, combined with the emotional one between him and his dad. And now he built a distance to his brother as well. 

It had been different in the past, much different. They had been a team. They had been so close, inseparable. And now he felt like a part of him was missing. They had drifted apart, although Dean hadn’t wanted it. He also didn’t want to pretend his dad’s actions or words were right only to get along with Sam further. 

These two things didn’t fit together, they just didn’t. Either Sam would believe him one day or they would have to go their separate ways. Angrily, he wiped away the tears from his cheeks. 

In the next few minutes, he wrote these thoughts to Angel, describing to him what was going on inside him. Only rudimentary, since he had really wanted to focus on Angel’s situation. Still, it did him good to talk a bit more openly about his emotional state. 

Then he quickly steered the conversation to Angel, as he really wanted to know what was going on inside him. Dean probed more, wanting to know what Angel had meant by his low point. Relentlessly, Angel then described to him that his old employer had more or less forced him to quit his job. Apparently, he had felt reminded of that situation once more. Homophobes. 

Dean was getting angry, even more so he felt sorry that Angel was being punished for being open about his homosexuality. It was so unfair. The longer they wrote, the more he learned. 

**AngelMuses:**

_I also had a fall-out with my mother two days ago. We fight on a regular basis (unfortunately) since our opinions differ. I love her very much, but it’s hard, nonetheless. The fact I am queer isn’t easy for her to handle, even years after my coming out. I presume the circumstances how it happened back then didn’t appeal to her. I had told my parents beforehand, and they were overwhelmed._

_I’ve struggled for roughly a decade with this but they didn’t want to hear it. They tried afterwards, they did, but we did not exactly talk about it. Which can be worse, honestly. Moreover, she is still amicable with my ex-girlfriend._

_As you can imagine, our separation wasn’t what you would call an easy one. I don’t want to go into details here, today is not the right time for that. My mother really annoyed me and made me sad this week._

_Moreover, I made the mistake of reading some messages or rather comments on a platform (I shouldn’t have, in retrospect) which were hurtful. All these aspects occupy my mind._

Dean understood Angel better now, he understood why he was still struggling with other’s perspectives on this. He wasn’t surprised since Angel was reminded periodically and by so many people that his identity was not wanted. It hurt him like hell that Angel had to go through these experiences, especially since he had mentioned that he had actually made his coming out very public. 

Dean had to think about this, he couldn’t just write anything. 

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Gimme a moment to reply. Sending a virtual hug until then. (Seriously you should feel honored, buddy. I never do that. Never.)_

Since Angel had already written that he was in the public eye, so to speak, these thoughts weighed him down a lot. He tried to put himself in Angel’s shoes, but quickly realized that it was really incredibly painful and took away his ability to breathe. Finally, he decided on an answer that was perhaps not the most sensitive, but certainly the most accurate.

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Ya know what? Screw them. Seriously. All of them. Not your mother. She seems to worry about you, in her own way. Still, you’re an adult, and she shouldn’t make you feel guilty like that. Shouldn’t go on and on to you._

_Lemme tell you something. They don’t get to decide who you are._

_You know how you feel, how you see yourself, what you want. You’ve known for a long time. Therefore, this is the truth. The only truth._

_Others don’t get a say in that. As long as you stick to the laws and stuff, you can do whatever the hell you want. You should._

_Ya know what I say?_

_Live your life even more freely. More wildly. More passionately._

_The next might sound like a bad saying but: Life IS too short. That’s hilarious coming from me, I know, I know. I wasted so many years already. But this isn’t about me, right now._

_I want you to know that you sound like such an idol for others._

_I don’t know the circumstances of your coming out, you don’t have to reveal that. I figure it would give away too much about your person._

_You should be proud of yourself._

_I think I understand better what you meant back then when you wrote me about your doubts and that I somehow saved you. The context with the crossroads. I was touched by that. I feel you. I do._

_Putting yourself out in the open like that. It’s admirable. Not many have the guts to do that. Hell, I wish I was that brave in that regard. I know it’s hard, and I don’t wanna give you phrases here. I’m convinced it will be worth it. And when I can help you with that – even better._

Okay, that had gotten long. But he had wanted to say it. Angel didn’t write him back for a long time. Minutes passed with Dean staring at the screen. He stared and stared and stared, feeling as if he had written something wrong. 

He scrolled through the chats on his phone, ignoring the stitch in his chest as he saw his dad’s text again. No, he looked for a message Charlie had sent him yesterday. It had been a bit upfront, but that was just her.

" _Marlin, I have a confession to make. I accidentally found your Angel playlist. You are so cute. Like: OH MY GOSH. Anyway. Here’s a song you should add. I found it the other day – and then it hit me. It’s perfect. Really. I thought it was you talking in the song. Listen to it._ “ 

The song was called "Impossible" by Nothing But Thieves. He started listening. Meanwhile, Angel had sent him another message.

**AngelMuses:**  
_I am delighted I found my true identity within myself. I am proud I show my sexuality openly. I like to inspire others with my words and my work. I like to encourage other people, especially younger ones who struggle with these overwhelming feelings and cannot understand them (yet). I stay strong for them and I feel good being myself. Seeing them smile or reading about their progress makes everything worthwhile._

_There are some days, however, when I wish I had never told anybody. When I am not as strong as I normally am or as I appear to be. When I think it would have been easier to live with this secret, although it pains and haunts me. Maybe I would only tell this to the right person – the one. Whenever that might be._

_Sometimes, I wish it would be this way. Because on certain days the moments I experience with the outer world are even harder to handle than having stayed silent. Sometimes, the mean words I receive are too much. I receive them because I share a part of me with the work I do and with the way I present myself in public._

_I have never admitted this to anybody, but today I feel this way. I am afraid and I feel alone. My friends and my brother are always wonderful. They are extraordinary, and I am so grateful for them. They make me smile and give me strength. Still. It is not a good day._

_There was a person who hasn’t accepted my boundaries the last few days. Although this problem is already taken care of (with legal steps) and shouldn’t trouble me anymore, I am angry. I am angry at the world in which we exist. Why would society stay silent about such moments? I don’t understand. And on those days I simply don’t possess the strength to tell others how good it is to stand by one’s sexuality._

Dean couldn’t think anymore. This was one of the purest things he had ever laid eyes on. That somebody had ever told him. He sniffed. And now the singer in the song really sang his feelings out loud. 

" _I could drown myself in someone like you_  
_I could dive so deep I never come out_  
_I thought it was impossible_  
_But you make it possible_ "

Dean was getting more and more emotional anyway, and decided to tell Angel something else.

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Actually. Lemme give you something to hold onto, my Angel. Since you find comfort and meaning in literature like me and write stuff yourself (e.g. the poem), the following kinda fits. There was this man whose parents were really devoted to their faith._

_He became interested in literature, poetry, very early in his life, started writing it while also struggling with his faith and trying to become more independent of his parents._

_Later, he fought in World War I. He was a soldier who fought at the front line. He suffered from all this pain, violence, hollowness and trauma. He kept going which is always something worth mentioning._

_Anyway, he was also a poet, right? This soldier and poet was called Wilfred Owen. He wrote all those poems which are fucking sad. Not gonna lie._

_The interesting part comes now. When he suffered from shell shock (aka PTSD) and had to go to the hospital in 1917, he met this fellow soldier (named Siegfried Sassoon) who was also a poet and introduced him to a literary circle (with several gay members, FYI)._

_This encounter changed Owen’s perspective on a lot of things. And his writing changed. The poems are pretty good, by the way, many works have an astonishing imagery or great structure (an example for the latter would be "Anthem For Doomed Youth"). They are moving. "Dulce et Decorum Est" really hit me. Painful to read. Fuck._

_Where was I? Right. Um, Owen and Sassoon had this thing going on. If you ask me, they fucked (Sassoon described another encounter in August 1918 as "the whole of a hot cloudless afternoon together“. Duh. Nothing to see here. Cough, cough.)_

_In any case, they kept in touch and wrote each other letters. In my opinion, there is no doubt they were in love with each other, although one had to be careful what to write back then (letters being checked and also the punishment of homosexuality back then)._

_One quote I found very sweet I wanted to share with you._

_Owen wrote, "You have fixed my Life - however short.“_

_Seriously, this letter and the letters in general contain so much aching and yearning and adoration. Sometimes more obvious, sometimes more hidden in the things they talk about or refer to._

_It was later confirmed (more or less) that Owen had been indeed queer and beside the correspondence with Sassoon there are also homoerotic tones in his poems which show that._

_Anyway, this other poet, this man who had influenced Owen so much and who he had presumably been in love with? After Owen’s early death Sassoon arranged for his poems to be published. He edited them._

_He made sure a wide audience would get access to his thoughts and writing. And years later, he stated how much he still missed him._

_I know this story’s kinda tragic as all war stories are._

_But it also gives me hope regarding the impact encounters and persons can have on one’s life. That there are always people who will condone the way one writes or talks or lives._

_In the end, there will be people who find comfort in this person’s story and writings. This man who had to fight in war and saw the ugliness and even surrealism of it every day still tried to put these experiences into words._

_He created art – this beautiful purity – in the time of destruction, fear, numbness and hopelessness._

_When he lost himself, he found a man who helped him find his voice. They formed a bond which survived the short time they shared together in person. It lasts. And I find that beautiful._

Again, several minutes passed. Angel still had not written anything. Not a word about his last messages.

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Angel, you okay?_

**AngelMuses:**  
_No. And yes._

**AngelMuses:**  
_This made me cry. Thank you. Do you want to know what my first reaction was?_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Obviously._

**AngelMuses:**  
_I need to build some context for that. I collected your notes from the scavenger hunt and the ones you put in the library after our misunderstanding about Baby. I cherish them. So before I wrote you today I lay them beside me. A symbol of our connection. After I’ve read your message, I grabbed the first one in sight (side note: it was the one which initiated the scavenger hunt), closed my eyes and pressed it to my mouth._

The rawness did so many things to Dean that his heart beat faster by the second. At that moment he yearned so much for Angel that he couldn’t control himself any longer. He had to tell him. And so, over the course of just a few seconds, he wrote the most impulsive text he’d ever created and pressed send immediately after. 

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Angel. The day we meet in real life, the very moment we’ll lay eyes on each other for the first time – I’m gonna grab you, and I’m gonna kiss you with so much tenderness you won’t be able to think about these idiots anymore._

_I’m gonna kiss you so passionately and urgently we’ll have to gasp for air after. We’ll have to gasp for air because that’s what you do. Taking my breath away._

_I will cherish your lips as much as I cherish our conversations and as much as I cherish your character. And I will show you all the softness and passion and intimacy and wildness and marvel and magic and belonging YOU create in me._

_Okay? I’m gonna kiss your lips like there’s no tomorrow. Chaste kisses. Licking them. Hungrily devouring them._

_Then, I’m gonna kiss every spot of your face. Every part that was forced to contort due to the nasty reactions others showed. Every part that was forced to display pain. I will kiss this away._

_And then I’m gonna caress your lips again because they symbolize speech and your words are the most beautiful thing. In person, hearing your voice, they must be even more captivating._

_Your lips, I wanna taste them._

_With my lips, I wanna absorb every truth, thought, doubt and beauty from you. The things you’ve said in the past, still lingering there._  
_The things left unspoken, hidden buds, only opening and growing in your beautiful mind and soul. The appealing sounds your (probably) tempting mouth can conjure._

_Everything, ya hear me?_

_I wanna feel even more close to you. I wanna compose this symphony you wrote about._

_I will make you feel seen and valued and understood. You deserve it._

_And if this thing between us becomes something in real life, I swear by Baby and my house and my music and my books that I will be good to you. So good. I promise you that._

_I feel so raw with you. I feel so damn much._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Fuck, fuck, fuck. SORRY!! TOO EARLY FOR THAT._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_I just can’t stop it, 'kay? I feel like that all the time when it comes to you._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Was it too much?_

**AngelMuses:**  
_It was perfect._

After this it was like another dam had broken. As if they had connected even more. They wrote and wrote. So many messages. In fact, Dean was so mesmerized sometimes that it took him an eternity to notice that no more music was playing in the background or that he was thirsty. 

As soon as he sat back in front of his laptop, Angel’s words captured him again. By now he was reading the other’s messages in a certain way. His brain processed them differently, virtually constructing a voice of the other. Dean heard Angel’s voice as if he had actually heard him talk before. The conversation developed as if by itself. 

Sometimes they just wrote short one-liners back and forth. Very teasing, sometimes provocative, usually with a flirtatious undertone. Then again, the topics quickly struck more serious tones, so profound that Dean sat spellbound in front of the screen. When Angel answered him, he never thought long about his answer. He wrote down everything that came to his mind. 

After hours of writing each other, Dean felt better, so much better. He didn’t fear so much, in fact, he felt carefree, almost rebellious. He knew this feeling wouldn’t last forever since the next day would be challenging and demanding. Still. It was a good moment for him, and he was glad he shared it with Angel. That they could cheer each other up like that. To provide strength. 

He told Angel that, and he sent him the song he listened to at this moment. "Runnin' Wild“ by Airbourne which was technically about a former relationship due to "baby“ addressed in one line. Other than that, it fit their situations so well. And the best part was it caused Angel to send him some hilarious texts. Angel appeared more hopeful and confident once more, and Dean was so happy about it. 

**AngelMuses:**  
_Tell me about your dreams._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Mmm. That’s a tough one. Never told them to anybody._

**AngelMuses:**  
_Try me. They are your dreams. They can’t be wrong. :-) On the contrary, I firmly believe they are extraordinary since they were born in your heart._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Damn, you’re flattering me again._

**AngelMuses:**  
_I’m aware. I like making you smile._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Who says I’m smiling, buddy?_

**AngelMuses:**  
_Me._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Yeah. You’re right._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_:-))))))_

**AngelMuses:**  
_For the record: You’re making me smile as well._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_I know._

**AngelMuses:**  
_Your confidence is quite attractive._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_:D Mmm. I think you’re rather confident yourself, Angel. The way you write. It’s so soothing. You’ve experienced so much shit but you really learned from that. You were the better person. And I admire that about you. You’re wise. :-) Also, I think your insights are pretty damn interesting. And really, that poem you wrote, gave me goosebumps and told about my own associations._

**AngelMuses:**  
_Thank you for your kindness. You inspired me. When I think about you my mind wanders and creates beauty. At least, that is how it feels like._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Angel._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_I feel the same. You remind me that I can achieve things in the future. Hell, you make me believe in me and my dreams._

**AngelMuses:**  
_So. Tell me about your dreams?_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_I’d like that. Not today, though. Don’t want to make this about me. Today was about you._

**AngelMuses:**  
_You are very kind and considerate. :-) We should probably go to sleep. It’s nearly 4 a.m._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_So much for staying awake for only one hour longer, huh?_

**AngelMuses:**  
_I suppose your activity was exciting enough, then. :-)_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Hell yeah. Couldn’t have said it better myself._

**AngelMuses:**  
_Thank you for everything. Good night, hē kalḗ pneuma (it means "beautiful soul" in Ancient Greek.)_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_(I know.) Way to make me blush again, dork._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Night, Angel. <3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned/quoted:
> 
> "Show Me Love" by Robin S (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ps2Jc28tQrw)
> 
> "Impossible" by Nothing But Thieves (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kg6aD8EGcKw) -> The song by Nothing But Thieves is relatively new. I wanted to include it here since it fits them so well. Anyway. This fic can take place in a different year. While writing this fic, I actually had an earlier year in mind. :) 
> 
> "Runnin' Wild“ by Airbourne (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2IyX5LXGyg)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)
> 
> The next chapter(s) will feature more interactions in real life again. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	17. Life’s worth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 17. Since the visit is important for Dean's arc, I didn't want to cut the scene short. So you get a longer chapter today. :) There will also be other interactions here. ;)
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Dean**

When Dean arrived in Cleveland the next evening, the familiar stomach ache immediately set in. Thoughts, far too many thoughts flooded his mind and occupied him far too much.

He searched for his hotel and his only luck was that he knew the area quite well, so he navigated the streets confidently.

When "Life For Rent“ by Dido came on, Dean winced and changed the radio station. All the memories that he tried to not think about all the time in everyday life, were now settling in him like burdocks.

His inner world was like a tattered patchwork rug. Too many holes. Too many parts which had been put together provisionally over and over. Too many loose ends. Too many strings not really belonging together anymore.

Dean constantly worried about Sam’s health, feared for worsening conditions, but it didn’t help to live his whole life only in fear.

Angel was right. He had to think about his own health sometimes.

Getting more nervous by the second, he did what he always did when he was driving and thinking too much: he drummed on the steering wheel and tapped his left foot in the footwell whenever he wasn’t using the clutch pedal.

It wasn’t a good habit, he knew. But today, the fucking nervousness overwhelmed him, too much so. In fact, his nervousness controlled him so strongly that Dean had deliberately driven to Cleveland a day early. Not so much because he was so eager to get anxiety even earlier but because he wanted to prepare for the visit.

Driving came so natural to him. Even the first time he’d sat in the driver’s seat, he’d sensed that he could do it. That this was his thing.

He had internalized all the actions within a very short time, had been able to drive longer distances so quickly that even his dad had not been able to criticize him.

Yeah, he had always been good enough to function as the driver. As the one who had fought against his eyes falling shut during drives of several hours, while his father had dozed in the passenger seat. It had always been like this; he knew no other way.

He was all the happier to be able to decide on his speed, the type and frequency of breaks, the route in and of itself and also the choice of music during car trips in Baby. It was a feeling of freedom that he no longer wanted to miss.

Dean took another look out the side window at the city skyline, numerous buildings situated directly in front of the water.

Although Cleveland, "The Forest City" with its many green spaces and abundant cultural offerings, was objectively beautiful and, moreover, exactly to Dean’s liking, he associated too much negativity with Sam’s place of residence.

If circumstances were different, he could certainly enjoy his stays more.

Moving here to study had been the logical move for Sam at the time. Sam had known he wanted to get into the graduate program in biomedical engineering. Moreover, the university had an appealing campus.

For a while, Dean had toyed with the idea of moving here as well, but quickly dismissed those pipe dreams. Once Dean had been accepted to his college of choice, his mind had been made up. Bobby had been the crucial factor for choosing this exact university, as he had given him support when no one else had cared about his health and especially his mental state.

No, he definitely could never have and would never have wanted to move to Cleveland.

Since their father visited Sam regularly, that would have irrevocably led to constant run-ins. And Dean didn’t have the strength for that. Too much had been destroyed between them, too much that could never be fixed.

Sam knew that.

Hell, Sam was on their father’s side at the moment. Dean did not condemn Sam for staying in contact with their father. There had always been a close bond between the two, despite, or perhaps because of, how often they fell out.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he felt like the failure, even though he had held this family together and saved it since his earliest childhood.

His father had sunk into a hole for years after mom’s death until he had finally found his profession and built a large network. With many important people, including even doctors and lawyers, who now listened more to his opinions and views than those of the rebellious and freak of a son.

Dean shook his head. By now he had arrived at the hotel and parked Baby in the narrow parking space on the first try.

His mind spun and he felt nauseous. Son of a bitch. How was he going to survive these days?

First things first. Check-in.

The hotel was a bit more expensive than he would normally allow himself financially, but he had to do what he could to feel comfortable and distract himself from his disastrous mood.

In fact, he had scoured the Internet beforehand looking for activities. Like a tourist, he would spend this evening, he had firmly decided. Of course, he could have contacted Sam, but he didn’t have the energy for that at the moment.

Sam had an appointment at the university today, and he'd visit his future in-laws, and Dean wanted him to enjoy more normality. He had been released from the hospital again, thankfully, and it made Dean so happy that his little brother was doing better health-wise. Finally.

And so Dean checked in and strolled around town on foot. In fact, he even went out to eat and treated himself to a good meal. A delicious steak with fries and salad, the dressing of which he could’ve easily drank because it was so tasty.

While he was sitting in the restaurant, his cell phone rang. His second cell phone which he used only for work purposes. For last-minute appointment requests, repairs and the like.

Dean checked the time and found that it was already well after 9 p.m.. The number was unfamiliar, and for a moment, he debated with himself whether to pick up at all. Finally, he accepted the call.

"Hi kiddo,“ a familiar voice immediately sounded from the other end of the line.

"Gabriel?“ Talking to Gabriel today was about the last thing Dean would have expected.  
"Glad you recognized me. I ain’t easy to forget, am I right?“ Dean rolled his eyes, but couldn’t suppress a grin.

"Uh-huh. How’d you even get my number?“ Dean asked, stalling for a bit until he could collect himself. In reality, he was 95.4 percent sure Bobby had given Gabriel his number.

"From our mutual friend Bobby, of course,“ Gabriel confirmed. "Kiddo, you’re incredibly smart, so you shouldn’t ask stupid questions only to avoid the topic.“

"Which would be?“  
"My car.“  
"Don’t tell me the Bentley is in agony again,“ Dean exclaimed in disbelief.

"Naah, nothing like that. I’ve bought another antique car, to be precise. Jaguar XK-E. Wanted to show you the beauty and get some smaller issues fixed. Interested?“

Dean whistled. Not bad. The Jaguar was a wonderful car. Beautiful, timeless and also fast. He smirked because he couldn’t wait to see the car in reality.

"Sure thing. Bobby’s probably told ya, I’m not exactly in town right now. Will be back by Sunday. You can drop the car by the shop, Bobby will look into it.“

“Truth be told. I want you to do the job. You’ve proven yourself very qualified last time.“

Dean bit his lip. It was funny that Gabriel had wanted to contact him directly. Bobby would've taken a look at the car long ago.

Wait a minute.

Did Gabriel like him? As in wanting to deepen their contact?

Sure, they’d gotten along pretty well, quickly lapsing into easy talks and gushing and heated discussions about all sorts of different cars. That had been fun, but Dean had thought Gabriel would be like that with everyone, not that he actually liked Dean more than other persons. That was unexpected.

"Gabe, you don’t have to buy a car if you wanna talk about vehicles with me, ya know?“  
"Oh, so you’ve maintained your wits. Good to know.“ Dean could hear the smirk coming from Gabriel’s voice and wondered what they were actually talking about here.

"This call isn’t about Cas, is it? Some control thing? I’m not planning to ditch him at the book club next week,“ Dean said without thinking, not knowing why he was bringing Cas into the conversation now.

"You two are visiting a book club together? Awww. Interesting enough.“ Dean heard a hiss as Gabriel covered the speaker with something, presumably his hand. "Brother, we have to talk. What? No, not about your pupils. Seriously, I’m not that eager to hear about your work.“

Again a few seconds passed, and the corners of Dean’s mouth turned up due to the conversation on the other end of the line.

"No. Why would I want to talk about bees? They are rather annoying. Oh yes, yes, they _are_. Shut up. Now you are just trying to provoke me. About Dean, dear brother. Yes. No. Yes. I’m talking to him right now. On the phone, obviously. Here. You’ll have him at hello.“

Dean laughed because Cas wouldn’t get that reference. Never.

What did just happen? Cas was with Gabriel?

Dean thought about the great afternoon in the youth center. It had been so much fun. He thought about Cas’s sparkling eyes, his humor, his interesting character, and how easily they had talked about basically everything that had come to mind.

After that day, Dean had been convinced they really had some kind of bond, he just knew. Somehow it was the truth. Cas was special. Which was why he had suggested Cas could accompany him on his road trip in December.

This was another encounter that happened completely out of nowhere, albeit over the phone.

"Hello Dean,“ Cas said with that gravelly voice. Automatically Dean got pleasant goosebumps and didn’t know why he reacted so strongly to the voice of the other.

"Hi stranger,“ Dean said teasingly. "Your voice is even deeper on the phone.“  
"Is that a good thing?“  
"Yeah. I s’pose.“ Dean clicked his tongue. "So. Your brother is a little shit.“  
"I am aware. But you will get used to it.“

"I like bees, by the way,“ it slipped out of Dean’s mouth. He cursed inwardly for this stupid change of subject.  
"Really?“ Cas said with obvious amusement in his voice.

"Definitely. For example, I frigging love the term for this particular thing they do when they want to signalize other bees where to find food. The waggle dance. Although it’s not actually a dance but rather a way of communication, I find the expression damn funny.“

Cas laughed at that, and Dean genuinely enjoyed hearing this sound.

They talked for a few minutes, mostly about goofy things which made Dean laugh heartily, until Gabriel had to claim Cas for some project at his café. Apparently they were planning a flea market, if Dean had heard correctly.

"I genuinely enjoy talking with you, Dean,“ Cas said at the end, and spoke this sentence with so much sincerity that Dean had to smile.  
"Me, too. We’ll continue next time. I’ll bring your flannel along.“

"Keep it. It belongs to you now.“

Dean’s face felt unnaturally warm. He couldn’t tell what had just happened, but he felt that this had meant something.

***

The next morning, he drove to Sammy’s apartment. He lived right beside campus, near Wade Park. Outside the apartment building, Dean took a deep breath.

It would be all right. Maybe they would be able to have a normal conversation. Like they used to.

They would exchange anecdotes. Dean would tell him about his books, fun facts about words he had learned, about his friends and about the last cars he had worked on, and Sam would tell about his chess meetings and his video games and also about topics like bioprocessing and biorobotics and everything else. It would be good.

At the door, Sam greeted him with a smile. His hair had grown quite a bit longer again, Dean noticed immediately. In return, Sam's face no longer looked so sunken and pale. Considering the autumnal temperatures, it could not be said that his brother had gained color.

In addition, he was currently completely forbidden to do sports, a fact that had not been easy for the sports fanatic Sam to cope with. More specifically, this announcement had resulted in many tears and angry exclamations.

Still. He looked really vital.

At this moment, Dean thought it was all worthwhile. His struggles and the stress, at least because it meant his brother’s health state was much better. He would get his surgery soon, and Dean would maybe get a chance at an easier life. Hopefully. Dean smiled, and finished the observation he had subjected Sammy to.

They didn’t hug, and somehow Dean was grateful for that.

He didn’t know if he might not burst into tears, and that darn stubborn little part of him screamed at him that he didn’t deserve this physical affection anyway.

Gritting his teeth, he followed Sam who led him unceremoniously into the living room. His question whether Dean wanted a drink, Dean declined with a grumble.

In fact, he really didn’t think their relationship was in any shape to philosophize about great times over lemonade, cucumber water, or a beer.

A few weeks ago, Sam had said he didn’t want to talk to him and that he definitely didn’t want to see him. After everything.

That was so fucked up, and Dean wouldn’t be able to simply forget that.

Dean leaned against the wall right next to the door, hoping to get some kind of support. Sam had sat down, not because he was rude, but because he was obviously having trouble breathing and needed to rest.

Right. Dean wasn’t allowed to upset him, to pick a fight. They would talk the issue out like two adults. They would either go their separate ways after a few minutes or talk for a while longer, finally spending time together again.

Suddenly, everything burst out of him, everything that had built up inside him over the last couple of days, months, years.

"Look. I wanna be happy. Okay? I am feeling better. Finally. After my breakdown I was in a miserable state, in a shithole. And I had to dug myself out all by myself.

I mean, yeah, I had Charlie and Bobby, always Bobby, but I was strong enough to keep going. And now I’m better. I have so much stress and work is tough.

But it’s also a good thing, I’m good at it. Working on cars. And on some days, I even have fun in my leisure time. Can you imagine?“

Dean took one deep breath, scratched the back of his neck, while Sammy eyed him with narrowed eyebrows, resting his hands on his lap. So lofty and from above, somehow.

Great, he found it all reprehensible. What exactly was wrong with his damn family? Or was he the one whose mind was completely damaged?

"I had a pretty damn good talk the night before I drove here. It did me good. So, so good. And I want to maintain this confidence and the hope. And I’m not willing to ruin my mood again. Just say your thing and be done with it.“

Now Sam cleared his throat several times and continued to look at Dean. He ran a hand through his hair once, narrowing his eyes until he finally laughed.

He laughed? Was he frigging serious?

Dean was trying to get this over somehow smoothly, and Sam was laughing?

Oh man, Sam really was way too much like their dad. In certain situations, dad also tended to show the exact emotions, say the exact words that were pretty much the most insensitive and stupid thing one could even remotely imagine.

Then Sam explained to him in a few words that he was sorry. That he was sorry that he had turned away from Dean like that due to his pain and all of dad’s speeches and his helplessness. He apologized for his behavior, he explained to him how wrong he had been, and that he should never have shut Dean out of his life.

After this speech Dean looked at Sam with an open mouth. If there was one thing he hadn’t anticipated for today, it was this. What had happened that had led to this sudden change of heart in Sam?

In the past, he had never cared. He had willfully upheld the injunction their dad had put in place in earlier years.

"And?“ Dean barked. He kicked the damn couch and the lamp and the pretty table, and he didn’t care he messed up the wonderful, fucking tidied up apartment.

All so neat. All so presentable. All so respectable. All so clean. Without flaws.

"Seriously, Sam. Screw you,“ Dean yelled, his voice getting louder by the second.

He knew he had to stop, he had made an oath with himself that he wouldn’t stir Sam up. But it was too much. It was all too much.

The explosive silence hung in the air, right above them, like the sword of Damocles.

"You cannot just say sorry and that’s it. That's too little, too late. For now, at least. You treated me like shit. Both of you. I was good enough for the money. And that’s it. Have you ever considered that I worry about you? I’m hundreds of miles away, yeah? I didn’t hear a thing from you or dad. Dad only contacted me to make me more miserable. I had to hear from the nurses what was going on the last time you collapsed.

That’s a whole other level of fucked up, Sam. That’s just sick. And I’m damn angry, alright?“

Sam didn’t say anything. He only scrutinized him, and that was even worse. Okay, now he was getting more angry than he’d intended. It was all so much.

"Aren’t you gonna say anything?“  
"Honestly, I don’t know what to say. And I don’t want to fight.“

Well, wasn’t that just peachy. Sam just wanted to stay silent, wanted to pretend nothing had ever happened.

Wanted to pretend that they hadn’t treated Dean like a blunt instrument. Like that was his only worth.

Dean hissed. Right now, he considered giving up, just telling Sam he was right. That Dean had failed to protect and save him, and that he had failed at his own life.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t put himself into that hole again.

His mind provided him with too many thoughts all at once. Too many thoughts over the course of just a few seconds.

Why couldn’t they just talk like normal people? All the time there were new things which weighed down on them.

All the time there were new occasions to yell at each other. It sickened him to the core. He wanted to leave. He wanted to tell Sam he couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t give up like that. At the same time, he loved his brother. So much.

He rubbed his nose, and took a deep breath. Maybe, he had to be the bigger person here. Maybe, he had to swallow his pride once more.

He knew it was wrong but he also knew that he couldn’t bear the anxiety and pain right now.

Why had nobody ever taught him how to react properly? Why had nobody ever shown him how to handle his emotions? Why had nobody ever told him they would catch him when he fell?

Instead, they had convinced him it was wrong to express emotions openly. That he had to suppress them. He had to calm down other people. He had to be the strong one.

And he couldn’t do that 24/7, he couldn’t. And all the times he realized this facade shattered, he hated himself even more for it. He wanted to feel numb and forget.

And he wanted somebody to just hug him because they felt like it. Not for support, just for the warmness and the beauty of the gesture. Nobody had ever done that.

When he felt bad, Charlie hugged him, Bobby did. Nevertheless, he couldn’t accept or bear their hugs for long, most of the time. He always felt he didn’t deserve the comfort, the touch. Because he wasn’t supposed to feel weak.

Dean couldn’t cry himself to sleep this night, he couldn’t lie awake and overthink. Overthink. Overthink. Overthink. He just knew, he fucking knew that his mind wouldn’t shut up, and then he would be all alone in this cursed city.

And he couldn’t always come back to the point where he was angry at himself and the world. He needed to move on, in a way.

If that meant being more reasonable than his brother or dad could be, then that would be it.

"Look, man, I’m glad you told me that, I’m fucking thrilled. But this doesn’t change things. You might be able to simply forget about the things that happened, but I can’t. I can’t, okay?

I needed a family as well. Support. I do everything. I neglect myself, my own feelings and dreams and needs. And dad’s still blaming me for everything. I can’t do this anymore.

I have to build some kind of life for me. That doesn’t mean I’m not there for you. I will always have your back, and I’ll always look out for you. I just have to look out for myself as well.“

"I know that, Dean.“ Sam rose again, slowly approaching Dean. Slowly, so slowly as if he feared Dean would attack him like a wild animal.  
"I am sorry. I really am. I know things aren’t going to be good between us immediately. But let’s fix it. Let’s try, at least.“

Dean nodded in contemplation, but said nothing in response. He couldn’t assure Sam that everything would be alright, not after everything. But he would try. He would make peace, he would try to build a team. Again.

He looked out the window, debating whether to put his idea into action.

"We used to have those coins, didn’t we?“ he put in.

"Our recognition coins? I was really attached to that club as a kid. What’s the story about Morse code and uncovering conspiracy theories in the neighborhood?“

They had really invested a lot of time in their detective club as kids, getting involved in it as if their cases were real. Over the years, nothing had strengthened their bond like those activities, nothing had given them so much fun.

They had always listened to an audio cassette of "He Ain’t Heavy He’s My Brother“ by The Hollies, and sung along out of tune and with the wrong lyrics. Today, the song gave him the best childhood memories.

Dean pulled his wallet out of his pocket and fished the coin out of the bill compartment. With a grin, he waved it in Sam’s face.

"Well.“ Sam winked at him and tossed his own coin to him a few seconds later. "You’re not the only one who feels sentimental sometimes.“

Sam briefly put his arm around his shoulder, and for a moment everything felt like it used to. "I don’t think dad ever forgave us for turning the garage into headquarters. The look on his face back then.“

Thinking about how they had unceremoniously moved his beloved tools out into the street to have more room for their chairs and papers, he had to laugh.

"We were a damn good team,“ Dean whispered.

"Are,“ Sam insisted. He cleared his throat. "I’ve arranged for the injunction to be lifted. The nurses told me how much you suffered. And maybe I needed an outside party to open my eyes.

I’ve been a moron. Since the diagnosis, I’ve slipped deeper and deeper into depression, not wanting to face what the truth is. I was running on empty. But anyway, that doesn’t matter now. Because you suffered too, and dad and I made things worse. I get that. I confronted dad, and he gave me all kinds of weird excuses.“

Dean didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t just tell Sammy everything was fine. Not again. He always did that. So he stayed silent.

After that, they didn’t talk about Sam’s health, or rather only the bare necessities, since his illness was too often the only topic they talked about.

They went for a walk in the park, instead.

"You’ve changed,“ Sam remarked after a few minutes. "You seem a lot more relaxed.“

Dean snorted and waved it off. "I wish I were.“

"What’s happening between you and dad sucks, but his talks of disowning you and so on? That was his decision. You understand? I don’t think you made me ill. It was going to happen anyway, and I know that now. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be living under some bridge today. If I wasn’t already six feet under, anyway.“

Sam never minced words, so it came as no surprise to Dean that he pulled him into a hug. "That’s what I’ve been trying to get you to understand for years. You’ve always been my hero.“

"You’re not mad?“ Dean echoed, cautiously.

It was so fucking weird that they had never talked about the whole situation. This had been going on for months, years actually, and they had always talked at cross purposes.

"No, I’m grateful, you idiot.“ Sam pulled him into another tight hug and squeezed him hard. "I know very well who pays all the bills. In the beginning, dad made it sound like he’d pay for everything, but don’t always think I’m going to buy every single word he says. I wish I’d shown you better how I felt.“

"Dad said you didn’t want to see me anymore. That you hated me. He told me many things, and it sounded plausible the way he presented it and I believed him. Together with the injunction and your reactions, it felt real. You blamed me, and I had to live with that,“ he muttered and felt relieved to say it out loud.

"Bullshit,“ Sam said, puffing. "My disease? How could you possibly be responsible for that? I know I thought so until recently. But I was wrong. I was manipulated. Sure, the disease was probably related to the constant pneumonia and most of all the infections and stuff. These things weakened my body, obviously. It was bad luck they always occurred when dad was away. But you always did what you could in dad’s absence. You were a child, Dean.“

Dean decided they had to let this topic rest for today. They wouldn’t fix everything here and now.

Sam took his old iPod and put on "He Ain’t Heavy He’s My Brother“. They listened to the song and sang along and ignored the people which eyed them skeptically.

Sam told him about his girlfriend Eileen, and it felt good to finally talk to Sam normally again. It was so easy to talk to him when dad wasn’t around.

Why did dad always have to build these constructs of lies that told Dean he wasn’t wanted?

Afterwards, they buried the two detective coins in the park. To store their relationship and also to bury the bad parts of the past - that's how Dean felt about it. 

"Now,“ Sam cheered him on. They spat on the spot simultaneously and sealed their ritual with an old-fashioned blood oath.

Back in his car again, Dean took a deep breath, contemplated for a few minutes. Maybe what people said about family was actually true. Within the family, anything could happen, any pain could be inflicted. Bitter arguments could destroy things irrevocably. It was the same with him and dad.

With the ties that one actually wanted to maintain and both sides wanted to work on, there was maybe still a chance.

And yet.

The past had shown that peace did not last in his family. That it was just the calm before the storm. And yes, he would have more contact with Sam again, of that he was sure. But the much more important question was whether his dad would ever let him have his peace.

No, definitely not, but Dean would stay out of his way at all costs.

There were things Sam didn’t know, things he didn’t need to know. That he couldn’t be allowed to know.

Dean cried and screamed while trying to figure out what to do next. He couldn’t just sit anywhere and sulk and drink and mourn the missed chances. He couldn’t.

But his mind, his damn mind wouldn’t let him have peace. No, of course not. There were too many thoughts all at once.

His mind screamed at him, telling him everything he had done wrong. Everything he had failed at.

He was 29 years old, and he had achieved nothing so far. Nothing to be remembered for. Nothing meaningful. Bad stuff tops. 

And so, once again, Dean pondered the one question that had been on his mind for more than 20 years. Would his dad ever stop torturing him with his words?

With the two short sentences, "If you weren’t so selfish, mom would still be alive. She’s dead because of you.“

It was probably the only thing they agreed on.

***

After the visit Dean needed all the distraction he could get. First, he went to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. He’d been there a few times before, but this didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to visit the museum even more often.

He wandered through the various floors, lingering on the third floor, the actual Hall of Fame, studying the exhibits, large pictures on the walls, reading the texts. Not only that, but he naturally spent a particularly long time at Led Zeppelin, remembering how, for example, Stairway to Heaven had created a connection between him and Angel so early on.

Then he went to the Greater Cleveland Aquarium and examined all the fish and turtles and other animals.

While listening to music he thought about Angel and the documentary he had recommended. As he stood in front of the tanks, he took it upon himself to watch the documentary about the underwater world as soon as he could.

He took pictures of the clownfish which he sent to Charlie without comment. She sent him back a series of laughing emojis and emoticons that told their own story. He would have to decipher them later because his frigging mind had other plans once again.

After that, he wanted to take a photo for Angel. He decided for an Annularis Angelfish which not only had the fitting name but also possessed a pretty orange body with blue stripes. More precisely, those stripes actually showed a glow that Dean couldn’t look away from.

From the attached text he learned that the Angelfish grew more beautiful with age. He loved this fact as it reminded him of two things.

First, Dean reflected on the things one learns in life and which form a person. That all the things a person experiences and feels and does create more depth to them, making them more beautiful as there were more miracles to be discovered.

Second, he thought about the things he and Angel had written each other. Basically, they had both written they found the other more beautiful with every aspect they learned.

"The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World came on.

" _Live right now_  
 _Yeah, just be yourself_  
 _It doesn’t matter if it’s good enough (Good enough)_  
 _For someone else_ "

And then Dean stood there in the aquarium, this public space with many families roaming around, and was struck with the sudden urge to cry out of happiness.

He shot the photo because he feared he would have an emotional meltdown. Dean knew Angel would like the photo.

Without hesitation, he wrote,

" _This right here is like the cutest (and also most beautiful) fish I’ve ever seen. Needed to send it to the most adorable person with the most beautiful mind I know. (Okay, that was kinda lame. But I mean it.) I already miss you after last night. Is that weird?_ “

He went to a park and walked for a while. His cell phone vibrated. He was expecting another message from Bobby who seemed especially concerned about him today.

If that was another message from his dad, though, he would probably throw the phone into Lake Erie immediately, then get drunk, then drunk-message Angel, then cry and do something crazy to feel adventurous. There would be enough to do on that front in Cleveland, he supposed.

No, it was a message from Angel.

Inevitably, he grinned. The grin faded from his face within the next few seconds.

" _No, it is not weird for I miss you, too. I might have done something idiotic today. I don’t feel good. I don’t want to stress you more since you are visiting your brother._ “

A tear ran down Dean’s cheek without him really knowing why. Yes, he was stressed inside, he was still tense after this visit. And yet, he didn’t want Angel to feel like he was bothering him. He wanted him to know that he cared. Dean typed a message impulsively.

**RambleOnIm67:**   
_Hope I found the hidden layer here. You wanna talk. Meaning, you need me?_

**AngelMuses:**   
_Yes._

**RambleOnIm67:**   
_M‘kay. You wanna tell me about that thing you did?_

**AngelMuses:**   
_Later. Actually, I thought we could do something fun. We could both use a distraction from our minds, I figured. An adventure. I suppose it would be another scavenger hunt. I invented it myself. I would give you 18 little tasks and challenges, and you would document your journey for today._

Okay, yeah, he was definitely interested. It was time. Dean decided, it was time for the next step on his healing road. On his journey to happiness.

**RambleOnIm67:**   
_Why 18 tasks?_

**AngelMuses:**   
_Because 18 is my favorite number. And because September 18 was the night when I found your note which invited me to write you – which I did on this day. I wanted to choose a number with a personal symbolism for us._

Aww. Dammit. Dean’s heart gave a little jump, and he wrapped both arms around his torso. For a change, not to ground himself or thwart a panic attack, no, just because those words anchored and warmed him so much inside.

Meanwhile, Angel had sent another message.

**AngelMuses:**   
_I think it could be amusing for both of us. Are you interested?_

**RambleOnIm67:**   
_Shoot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned/referenced:
> 
> "Life For Rent" by Dido (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OFtNChII78k)
> 
> "He Ain’t Heavy He’s My Brother“ by The Hollies (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jl5vi9ir49g)
> 
> "The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oKsxPW6i3pM)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! :)


	18. Following clues and taking steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 18 - Angel's little Scavenger Hunt. :)
> 
> No warnings. It's fluff. :) I suggest listening to the songs mentioned during the scavenger hunt. :)
> 
> Enjoy!

**Dean**

**AngelMuses:**  
_I’m still at my office. I can only head home in about two hours. So, this will happen in my imagination, only. But I have some ideas and I hope they will work in the city you’re staying in right now._

**AngelMuses:**  
_I will give you the tasks and the clues. The solution or outcome will be chosen by you. The more tasks you fulfill, the closer you will get to the destination. I hope. :-)_

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Angel, don’t be such a tease._

**AngelMuses:**  
_Okay. You have to trust me, though. The first task involves taking your shoes off._

Dean shook his head and stared at his phone in disbelief. Angel couldn’t be serious. What was the point of him taking off his shoes? For the moment, it didn’t make much sense to him. 

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_My what now? I’m wearing boots. It’s the end of October. It’s not exactly warm, buddy._

**AngelMuses:**  
_You will buy new ones, very soon. Only for today. :-)_

First, Dean searched for a clothing store that specialized in early fashion, a store that looked like it owned the kind of shoes Angel had described it to him in another message. Still not knowing what he was actually doing here, he opened the store door, which of course announced him with a shrill ring. 

Immediately he was greeted by a man with a friendly smile. He was old, well into his 60s for sure, but spoke so frantically and with such freshness that Dean couldn’t help but grin. He described to the owner the kind of shoes Angel had in mind, also reading this part of Angel’s message out loud. 

Soon he tried on a pair of shoes. Lace-up shoes, Oxford style, in a classy black. They were elegant, Dean liked them. Immediately, he felt more sophisticated and open-minded in a way. His mind developed new thoughts, all of a sudden he had so many ideas, so much he wanted to do. It was odd and awesome. 

"Perfect,“ Dean remarked after taking a few steps up and down. He turned in a circle, looking at himself in front of the mirror. 

"You want a fitting outfit for that?“ the man asked with a smirk, nodding toward the racks of clothes. “The vintage style seems to intrigue you.“ 

Dean frowned, didn’t think twice, and agreed with several nods. The owner picked out dark gray pants, a fancy shirt and not too obtrusive but elegant suspenders. 

Without thinking long about the lunacy of this situation, Dean left the clothes on right away. They looked damn good on him. He asked the man to take a photo of him - from the side and without his face being recognizable. 

Afterwards, the owner watched Dean with curiosity and a tiny smile tugging at his lips. 

"I think the person you are doing this for will appreciate this traditionalism. I find it heart-warming. It might be none of my business but I hope your outfit will give you the confidence you need to solve your tasks.“ The man winked, and Dean had no idea whether he knew that he was doing a scavenger hunt. 

He had only read the short passage of Angel’s message out loud. Maybe it had just been a figure of speech, the man trying to convince him he was capable of overcoming obstacles when his appearance fit the purpose.

Nevertheless, this situation was peculiar. Thinking about this word, Dean laughed out loud.

"Thank you,“ he replied and grinned. "I s’pose you‘re damn right about that.“

He sent the photo to Angel who sent him a series of compliments that made him blush irrevocably. 

Dean carried his regular clothes around in a fortunately not so conspicuous shopping bag. As he strolled the streets, he definitely felt different. Again, he put on his headphones, listening to "Footloose" by Kenny Loggins which always lifted his spirits. 

" _You’re burning, yearning for some_  
_Somebody to tell you_  
_That life ain’t passing you by_  
_I’m trying to tell you_  
_It will if you don’t even try_  
_You can fly if you’d only cut loose, footloose_ "

He hummed to himself while checking Angel’s message for the second task. In fact, it looked similar to the first one because now he was supposed to buy a pocket watch. Angel had explicitly written that it didn’t have to be an expensive pocket watch, but that he was more concerned with symbolism. 

Literally, in his multi-line message, he had spoken of time on earth being too valuable to waste on nasty people, atrocious experiences, and external pressures. Basically, Angel instructed him to buy the watch to remember that.

Dean didn’t choose the cheapest watch he could find because he didn’t like the feel of the inferior material in his hand. Instead, he opted for a watch with a case made of a beautiful brass, simply because the gilded watch reminded him of the classic depictions of angels. 

The dial was on a beautiful, classy looking walnut wood, protected by a precious mineral glass. The watch chain was removable. Let’s go the whole hog, Dean thought. Dean fastened it to the hem of his pants and grinned.

This was all so absurd. He felt like a tormented man from worse times past who had traveled to the future for some time off. 

The next tasks were easier to accomplish than he had initially thought. For the third task, he was to go to a library that was still open, grab the first book that came to mind, and just read for a while. 

  
**AngelMuses:**  
_Without obligations, without haste, without accusations. :-)_

Naturally, his subconscious decided for one of the great classics which was also one of his favorites style-wise and regarding the execution – Anna Karenina. As soon as he read the first sentence, he snorted. 

" _Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way._ “ This sentence alone certainly gave much to reflect on and much to analyze over. However, soon after he dove into the portrayed society in part one. He followed the family drama, Anna’s arrival in Moscow and the developments afterwards. 

Task 4 didn’t seem very logical to him at first, but he followed Angel’s instructions. To be more precise, he was supposed to address four complete strangers and give them compliments. The task felt effortless to him because he was used to talking to people. In the car shop he always had to make small talk, to put people in a good mood so that they knew their car was in safe hands. 

**AngelMuses:**  
_5: Walk down a (quiet) street with your eyes closed. At least 40 steps. :-)_

That was a demanding task, but Dean did it, anyway. Not without grumbling, obviously.

After that, task number 6 was more to his liking again. He was supposed to go to a bar, sit down at the counter and order a beer. Then he had to interpose random pop culture references into the room within the next few minutes. 

That was too easy, but it was also so much fun. He couldn’t stop laughing afterwards. And his little remarks even earned him another beer. Damn good task, that one. He sent Angel a picture of the second beer with the barkeeper’s hand in the background, showing a thumbs up. God, this had been a blast. 

Number 7 took him back to Wade Park, because Angel told him to look for a tree. To find a tree, to put a hand on the trunk, to close his eyes and breathe. That’s what he did. He inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled, drinking in the scent of the tree. And yes. He felt grounded, he felt tranquil. Good. 

Meanwhile, Angel had sent him another cryptic message. Number 8. In the text, he kindly but firmly instructed him to go to a diner and order a coffee with caramel and a slice of apple pie with extra whipped cream. Well, that was really a damn easy task for a change. What’s more, both the coffee and the pie tasted so delicious that Dean had to restrain himself from groaning out loud. 

Again he took a picture which he sent to Angel. Angel then sent him a photo back. Pictured was a piece of cherry cake next to which he had placed one of Dean’s notes and a new note, saying "Scavenger Hunt 2.0“. 

Dammit, Angel was such an adorable dork. Dean had to swallow. 

At the next table sat a family, father, mother and two sons around 10 years old. Apparently, they were celebrating the birthday of the older son who had various gifts in front of him. The father had his arm around the boy, and explained to the boy, Tim, that he would be able to play soccer even better with his new shoes. He would be able to outwit the other boys his age even better, and thus win the games. 

Dean could see how proud his father was of his son and almost started crying. He wrote Angel a short message, letting him know that he would need a few minutes to compose himself. To be able to throw himself back into the tasks with full vigor. 

A short time later, Angel wrote him another message, explaining that his next task would fit the situation perfectly. Angel sent another message right after that, introducing by the number 9.

**AngelMuses:**  
_9: Go to this young man, the son, and wish him a happy birthday. Tell him something kind and sincere, something that comes from your heart._

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_No!! That would be totally awkward for all of us, Angel. They are celebrating._

**AngelMuses:**  
_Trust me._

Angel was from another galaxy, he had to be. 

Dean sighed. He emptied his coffee and rose from the chair. Running his hand through his hair, he went to the waitress and ordered another piece of pie. This would be so, so awkward. He wasn’t bad at social interactions but he really didn’t want to intrude the family moment. With the pie, he approached the table and introduced himself. 

Then he just said it. 

"I was sitting beside you guys and couldn’t help but notice someone’s having an important day. When I was your age, I couldn’t wait for dessert. So happy birthday.“

He had rattled all this off so quickly that he feared the boy had not understood him. He put the plate on the table, still feeling strange. He was used to caring, but he really couldn’t handle going into a happy family situation and disrupting it.

The boy grinned at him. He wasn’t angry at all, moreover, he seemed even happier than before. 

"Thank you. You’re awesome,“ the boy – Tim – said, holding out his hand. Dean shook it and laughed. Meanwhile, the parents and the other boy had also broken their silence, all interjecting joyful comments. It was absurd how easy this was. How good. 

De facto, they invited Dean to sit with them, and really, Dean had never been greeted so warmly by strangers, even though it was said he showed openness. 

"So, as of today, you’re 10 years old. Wow. You’re practically an adult now.“ He gave Tim’s father a sideways glance, who smirked. "What do you wanna become when you’re older?“ Dean asked, realizing he was genuinely interested. 

"A scientist. Or an astronaut,“ it shot out of Tim without hesitation. 

Dean grinned. "You seem like a smart young man. The jobs you named are damn spectacular and important. I’m sure you can achieve those dreams.“ He swallowed because after his last words he knew exactly what Angel was up to here.

Sighing, he turned to Tim's parents, mainly looking at his father. "I’m sorry for intruding your son’s birthday like that. My- um, a friend of mine is challenging me today. I’m supposed to spread happiness and stuff. So, there’s that.“ 

He gave the two another look. "Anyway. Earlier I really enjoyed getting to witness your wonderful family. I wish you all the best. And you, um, I think you’re doing a terrific job here. You can be proud of your son. Of both of them.“ He nodded at the other boy who smiled as well. 

"We are,“ the father confirmed. Then he looked at his sons, each one individually, and said twice, with such earnestness, "I’m so proud of you.“ 

Dean swallowed hard, choking up. He exchanged a few more words with the family before saying goodbye. What exactly had he just done here? He took a deep breath because this was really, really more than he could take right now.

  
**RambleOnIm67:**  
_I see what you did there. Duh. I almost started crying in this diner, dork. Totally rambled again, with these strangers. Dammit._

**AngelMuses:**  
_Good._

**AngelMuses:**  
_I’m proud of you._

Oh, dear Lord. This was- He couldn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t think anymore. 

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Gimme the next task. Angel. Please._

He decided to continue the scavenger hunt by mostly relying on his impulses. While doing so, he listened to "Night Moves“ by Bob Seger on continuous loop, which somehow made him grin. 

For task 10, he got on a crowded bus to yell "Fucking watch where you’re going and learn some basic manners!“ at a rude man for pushing him. Great task, easy to solve. Kinda satisfying.

After that, Dean was supposed to grab a phone book, pick out five different numbers and call them, not pretending to give them money or anything but rather telling them a good thing about himself. A thing he liked.

That was definitely the most embarrassing task so far. Angel was set on torturing him.

Six persons immediately hang up when he called them, and Dean couldn’t blame them for it. 

Then he actually managed to keep two persons in the call which gave him some encouragement. Still. For some minutes he considered quitting this task. Angel would not know he didn’t make it. He could still send him whatever traits he would come up with.

But no. Angel would notice, he was certain of it.

And so Dean continued. An hour later, he finally finished the fifth person, and sighed exasperatedly. 

Oh. He was also supposed to write Angel the traits he had chosen. Great. 

Sighing once more, he opened the Geekatism app. Quickly, he typed a message.

**RambleOnIm67:**  
_Done. Five random persons are now aware that I am A. humorous, B. caring, C. great at analyzing stuff, D. a fighter/never giving up, E. a sensual kisser. ;-) Okay, okay. The last one was for you, obviously. Dammit... E. smart._

Number 12 consisted of a strange acrobatic act where he was supposed to jump over benches, while task 13 involved a rose which he purchased from a rose vendor and placed in the hand of an elderly lady with a charming smile and a small compliment. 

Angel had said Dean should look for a person who had the warmest and most intriguing aura, but seemed the most lost. After she had weighed the rose in her hand for a few seconds, the lady looked at him with a mixture between curiosity, wonder and joy. 

The way she looked at him, with sparkling eyes and this honest expression one could not find anymore these days, did something to him. Dean wanted to put these feelings into words, and didn’t know why he felt this sudden urge. 

Dean told her, "The rose may wither soon and lose its beauty but lemme tell you. You still have more radiance and energy than most of the women roaming these streets.“ 

Now the woman looked at him like he had just gifted her a fancy house. Suddenly, she hugged him, right in the middle of the street. She patted his back, and Dean didn’t know what to do with himself. Cautiously, he returned the hug before they separated again. Feeling awkward all of a sudden, he scratched the back of his neck. 

"You are truly an attentive young man, very observant of your surroundings. It astonishes me. So much generosity and warmness you carry around your entire being. You remind me of my late husband. And not only because of you are so handsome.“ 

She winked at him, sweetly, yet cheekily, and now Dean knew for certain she had been dazzling back in her days. They exchanged some more words before they parted ways again. 

For the 14th task, Dean went to a hotel and climbed all the stairs up to the roof terrace. When he was at the top, he read the reason for this task. Angel explained to him that with all his attention to detail, he still always had the big picture in mind. Because his mind was so comprehensive. 

Therefore, the panorama over the city would do him good, would remind him of his complex mind and the conclusions it drew. 

Holy shit. The more he thought about these words, the more was happening inside him. 

In the end, Dean stood there, on the roof, looking into the distance while thinking absolutely nothing for a change. It felt like the world with all its variety and rush and obligations didn’t load them onto him for a change. Although he wasn’t even finished with the tasks, he already felt a certain contentment within. 

And so he opened Angel’s next message with excitement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.“ from "Anna Karenina" by Leo Tolstoy
> 
> Referenced/quoted songs:
> 
> "Footloose" by Kenny Loggins (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kK2hpeqkYjA)
> 
> "Night Moves" by Bob Seger and The Silver Bullet Band (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mRFWQoXq4c)
> 
>   
> I intend to post part 2 of Cas’s Scavenger Hunt later today. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	19. Floating dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 19. :) 
> 
> In between all the angst I wanted the scavenger hunt to be something hopeful. So it's fluffy again. This fic still has several chapters left, by the way. :) 
> 
> As I mentioned in the last chapter: I suggest listening to the songs. In this chapter the song Angel/Cas mentions in his longer message is the most important one here, though. :) 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Dean**

Frigging hilarious. Task number 15 commanded him to eat two bacon cheeseburgers like that was any kind of challenge. He solved that one quickly, capturing the moment with before/after-pictures of the plate. Angel sent him 10 ":-D" emoticons in a row which really was an unfamiliar sight but also so fantastic. Dean fell into a fit of laughter, almost unable to check his Geekatism messages for the 16th task. This one was a bit odd.

**AngelMuses:**   
_16: Search for any kind of thing that symbolizes flying. You mentioned once you are afraid of traveling by plane. Although I do not know this fear – I am an Angel after all ;-) – I understand it must weigh on you. Stand before whatever thing you choose, and talk to it. Tell this thing you will not let his fear defy you. Do it. :-)_

After reading Angel’s message, Dean had to think about his solution for a while. He wasn’t sure which approach would be best here. In the end, he thought a perfect choice didn’t exist, it was more about the things he thought while proceeding with this task. In the end, he decided for the Crawford Auto Aviation Museum. For the good memories he associated with it.

He had already visited the museum twice since it contained awesome antique cars and airplanes. It had actually been a trip he’d entertained with Bobby some years ago. The cars really were a sight in reality, and Bobby and him had had the best time swooning over cars like a 1915 Ford Model T Couplet or a 1935 Auburn 8-851 Cabriolet.

He took a cab to the Cleveland History Center. The museum was already closed but this didn’t matter. Dean walked to the front door, paused there and just looked. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat, testing his voice.

"I will not crumble before you,“ he said as if addressing his fear. While saying it, he realized he also talked to his fears and opponents in general. Another smooth move by Angel. Dean smiled, looked in air, his smile getting broader by the second.

Number 17 would become more challenging for him because he really, really didn’t know what Angel was trying to do with it.

**AngelMuses:**   
_17: Sing karaoke. Choose your song. Send me a picture of the karaoke machine with the title on it._

After a short search, Dean found a bar that actually offered karaoke that night. He announced that he wanted to join in, which already earned him goodwill from the people in charge. He watched the attendees and sent Angel all sorts of grumbling messages about the task.

Finally, it was Dean’s turn, and he chose a song he had heard up and down in the past - "Simple Man“ by Lynyrd Skynyrd. His singing voice didn’t suck, it was quite okay in his opinion. It certainly wasn’t comparable to Ronnie Van Zant‘s, he knew that, but at least he knew the lyrics inside out and could convey the right emotions with the song.

Things were going better than he had expected. With that, he had completed 17 tasks and challenges. They had exchanged more than a hundred messages the last few hours. Dean had sent Angel at least one photo for every task, and often enough Angel had sent him fitting photos as well. It had been an awesome way to spend the rest of the day.

He had walked many steps, hiked and driven through half the city, stopping many a time in places because they so captivated him. Just as life sometimes offered the moments that stood out, detached and unforgettable.

**AngelMuses:**   
_18: Your future. How do you imagine it? What do you see in it? What are your dreams? Write everything down. Without filter, without hesitating._

**RambleOnIm67:**   
_You smooth bastard. ;-) Was the scavenger hunt your clever way of getting my dreams out of me?_

**AngelMuses:**   
_Partly. I really wanted us to have fun. And I enjoyed myself a lot today. In fact, I went to a karaoke bar with my brother the same time you did. And I sang as well._

**AngelMuses:**   
_Talking about all our revelations, our steps forward, my spirit’s awakening, so to speak – I chose “Walking in Memphis“ by Marc Cohn. I listened to it many times when I attended boarding school. I have fond memories of it. However, the song’s tone is simply excellent to create a certain flow. :-)_

  
Dean shook his head while trying to ignore the earworm Angel had just given him. He had done that on purpose, he knew it, since he already felt braver.

**RambleOnIm67:**   
_The song's perfect, to be honest. Would’ve loved to be a fly on the wall, listening to you. :-) Okay, okay. I am not completely appalled, just fighting my inner demons. Tell me more._

**AngelMuses:**   
_Dear Rambler, don’t feel forced to do this task. I thought it would be a lovely gesture, a good way to end this scavenger hunt. Writing them down. You should buy a bottle. You should write down your dreams and throw it into the river, once you’re back in town._

A message in a bottle. That was a great idea, indeed. But did he want to do this? Did he want to write down his dreams and really deal with them?

Immediately his mind created some associations. First he thought of the great song by The Police, which seemed appropriate not only for this specific situation here in Cleveland, but especially for himself.

It fit his life and it fit just as well the way this thing between him and Angel had come about. A lonely guy, left alone in many ways as if on a desert island, sends a message in a bottle on its way, hoping that maybe that message will be found by someone. Searching for a profound bond, consisting of happiness and belonging.

He had not liked the film of the same name. The book by Nicholas Sparks, on the other hand, on which the film was based, had been beautiful, if the ending was a bit too tragic to make him hopeful now.

Nor was it "The Notebook", probably being his favorite book by Sparks. More importantly, he loved the movie with Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams even more. Not that he would admit any of this to anybody. The love story didn’t touch and gut him like the one in "Sun-Kissed", but still captivated him every time. In any case, it didn’t matter now. This was about him, not fictional characters or invented worlds, however wonderful they might be.

And so he pulled himself out of his thoughts again, because at this moment he really didn’t want to lose himself in these fictional stories. He didn’t want to get lost at all, in the sense of feeling lost or sinking so much into helplessness and shame and sadness.

This was about him. About his reality. His small world.

**RambleOnIm67:**   
_I’m kinda at the water, right now._

**AngelMuses:**   
_Wonderful. This is even better. This way I will accompany you. :-)_

He could tell Angel about what was going through his mind. That he was well on his way to developing serious feelings for him. Hell, if he was honest with himself, that was already happening, even though he certainly would never have thought it possible if someone had told him that. He was sure that Angel also felt something, that he also thought they were experiencing something unique here, something that probably happened to a person only once in a lifetime.

He thought about the seeing Angel in real life, the first time he would lay eyes on him. Immediately after, Dean freaked out because he was so scared this thing between them would be ruined.

That it would be different outside their messages. That they wouldn't like each other in real life, that they would not feel all the intensity there. That they would feel like strangers who had nothing to talk about. Not that he really believed that, but his fears overwhelmed him. Alternatively, he would just mess everything up. Like he always did. 

Stop it, he scolded himself. 

Once again, so much was going through his mind, so much he wanted to say, so much yearning he wanted to express. But this scavenger hunt, this little adventure was not meant to build up weird expectations.

The scavenger hunt was about his personal development, more specifically it was about him daring things, gaining a different perspective and perhaps learning to adopt it permanently. And yes, that was an important step for him. Tackling new things would do him good. By doing these things, he was also helping Angel.

Because Angel was going through a hard time, and in some way Dean was able to help him cope. Angel felt better because he was there for him. That dumb-founded him, but he understood that much now. Eventually, they would surely switch roles in that regard, that much he knew.

And so Dean set off, went into a gift store that was fortunately still open despite the evening hours, and spent about half an hour looking for the perfect bottle. According to Angel, it couldn’t just be any bottle.

In fact, the other had written him 10 different messages describing the appearance, the haptic and the way the bottle was supposed to make Dean feel while looking at it. Angel definitely was very thorough with his scavenger hunt, and Dean liked him even more for this.

As he studied what felt like 50 different bottles this store offered, Dean noted how incredibly good his mood was by now.

He left the store, and made his way to Lake Erie. Again, his phone vibrated to notify him of a new message from AngelMuses. Although they had exchanged numerous messages more often during the day, the frequency reached new highs that day.

Arriving at the lake, Dean dropped onto a bench and stared out at the water. Except for the lights on the horizon, the light posts and the illumination on the various buildings, the night was shrouded in darkness.

**AngelMuses:**  
 _Before you throw the bottle into the water, I wanted to write you something._ _Thank you._ _We’ve known each other for a relatively short time, speaking of periods of time. Time is a peculiar thing. ;-)_

_I think it is safe to say that this here feels like we’ve known each other longer. Much longer. At certain moments, it feels like I have known you forever._

_Sometimes things happen, and nothing is like it used to be. This is the case with you._

_YOU changed me, RambleOnIm67. You are changing and simultaneously accepting my true being. And will continue to do so, probably. Hopefully._

_I was not sure whether I should share the following insights with you. When I read your message about the crossroads in the very beginning, I happened to listen to a specific song._ _And this song hasn’t left me ever since. It is very symbolic for me._

 _As you know, I’ve been struggling with my faith for years. But I have faith in me – and in you. More importantly, you give me faith._ _And – of course – you can have faith in me as well. You can trust me. :-)_

_I wanted to send you this song since it expresses the way I feel about you. Us. And I do love this. Our conversations. Your thoughts, always your thoughts._

_It is not my intention to confess any kind of romantic feelings here – although I am certain this is the road we’ve chosen to follow. :-)_

_We are good._ _In sharing our fears and our supposed weaknesses, so to speak, without having to fear to be condemned for naming them. In supporting each other. In being ourselves. In bringing out the best parts in ourselves and in each other. The beautiful parts._

 _Dare I say? You, me – we are better together._ _We are good as this symphony we are creating._

_The song is called "Have A Little Faith In Me“ by John Hiatt._

When he read all these wonderful lines in black and white, Dean swallowed hard. How was it possible that Angel spoke directly from his soul again? That he spoke out his deepest longings and thus said what he was thinking? It was unbelievable.

Dean had been sobbing incessantly ever since he read Angel’s words. He was fantastic at putting things like that into words, and Dean found himself thinking more and more often about whether Angel actually had to do a lot of formulating or writing in his jobs. It seemed very likely. His mind itched, like his subconscious wanted to tell him something important. He felt too emotional to develop any coherent thoughts.

**RambleOnIm67:**   
_Sorry, I’m kinda at a loss for words here._

**AngelMuses:**   
_A (my) rambler currently not rambling – is still one of a kind and beautiful and my favorite colloquialist to talk to. :-)_

**RambleOnIm67:**   
_Angel. Stop it. :-)))) Your text made me cry, by the way. I’ll need some minutes to prepare for the last task._

Finally, he sat down on a bench near the shore and was lost in thought. What Angel had written about the song intrigued him even more. And so he used one of the streaming services again and searched for the song. As soon as the first notes sounded, he felt calmer. So much calmer.

Although more tears were running down his cheeks by the second, he knew these were good tears. Cleansing tears. He was crying because something was releasing inside him.

Because he was processing.

Because he was experiencing something wonderful.

Theoretically, he knew exactly what he wanted to write, but he had to overcome boundaries, meaning himself.

He had to expel this poison that kept spreading through his body. Slinking, slinking through every single vein. The poison that took his breath away, pushed him to the limit until he almost collapsed.

For the moment, he had to put his doubts to the back of his mind. He had to forget that his father detested him for finding men at least as attractive as women. He had to forget that he sacrificed himself too often for benefiting others. To save them.

For a change, he would save no one.

No one but himself.

And so he took the pen and opened the notebook Bobby had given him. He chewed on the pen and paused. Then he wrote without once setting it down. He wrote and wrote, the pen flying over the paper and quickly filling half a page. A whole page. Two pages.

In the end, he took a picture and rolled up the pages, carefully tucked them away in the bottle, and took another picture.

Then he got up and walked to the shore. The lantern cast a dim light on the ground and the lake, and Dean enjoyed this atmosphere for a few seconds until he placed the bottle in the water and waited for the moment when it slowly drifted away. Floating on the water.

It was hard to make out anything on the water despite the gloaming of the lantern, so Dean reached for his lighter and used it to create a flame whose flickering quickly grew larger and brighter with the wind.

While the small flame danced before his eyes, he operated his phone’s camera with his other hand. He quickly snapped two photos. The bottle could just be glimpsed. In fact, the half-lit glass looked like magic from a fairy tale. Delicate, mystical, beautiful.

And damn, with the song still playing, with the voice still soothing him and making him so incredibly emotional, he felt so much warmth in his innermost being that he wanted to shout it all out.

" _When your secret heart_  
 _Cannot speak so easily_  
 _Come here darlin‘_  
 _From a whisper start_  
 _To have a little faith in me_ "

How could it be that Angel had crashed into his life like an ethereal force? How could he find so much happiness? Out of nothing, when often enough, he had only known nothing before. 

He had to write something. He couldn’t leave the things unsaid which he desperately wanted Angel to know. 

**RambleOnIm67:**   
_I know the purpose of a message in a bottle is another since someone is supposed to find it and enjoy the mystery. The other person should get intrigued and interpret the words etc. Still. You helped me with this. And I wouldn’t have written the message without you, Angel. So here._

He sent him the photo of the notes, so Angel could also read his text about his dreams. 

" _I really wish to continue living in a quaint and cozy house. Preferably in nature._ _I wanna keep my awesome friends and found family since they are the best people a complicated person like me could wish for._

_At some point (preferably earlier than later) I wanna continue and finish my studies. That would be awesome. I think I’d still be good at it._

_Yeah. I don’t wanna feel so angry at the world and most of all at myself anymore – that’d be great. Should look out for myself more._

_Later – and that’s the first time I admit this to the outside world – I’d actually love to own a book store, in an antique building with charm, where I could indulge in my passion for literature and find special works and hidden treasures but also gift my love for literature to other persons. I could spread my passion and thoughts and interests and actually advise others based on their interests._

_Ohhh. I definitely wanna be with a person who sees me for who I am. A person who loves me and values my quirks, in particular._

_I don’t wanna feel ashamed of my passions, my interests and my thoughts. More precisely, I don’t wanna feel ashamed of myself._

_Therefore, I wanna experience an all-consuming love. Kinda like in "Sun-Kissed", but not bittersweet, just full of bliss._ _With passion, domesticity, mutual trust, fun, a deep understanding, a support going both ways._

_I also wish for adventure, of seeing many places on earth. Places which are considered must sees but also the hidden places which are waiting for me to explore them._

_I'd like to try new things 'cause I focused too much on obligations in the past. In fact, I wanna build a life and create a state of mind which is better than any dream._

_Therefore, dreams still exist in my life, I still let my mind wander – but the life I have is so perfect in its own way._

_Perfect for me._

_What I wish for the most regarding my future is the following. I don’t have to fantasize about something different anymore because all I could wish for is right there or can be achieved._

_Dreams are terrific but they are also always floating, constantly changing._

_My reality should be stable with dreams only being a nice addition. Dreams shouldn’t simply be things I regret._

_I don’t wanna suppress those feelings, my innermost longings and I don’t wanna pretend I am someone else. At least not with my partner._

_I wanna feel like I’ve arrived while remaining curious for the things and places out there. In the future, I want to feel like I belong._ "

A few minutes later, Dean’s heart was still pounding, and he was crying harder than he had in years. He was crying and laughing and making all kinds of absurd and really hysterical sounds. Then he cried out loud, and really, he was so glad that he was here alone at the moment. 

Maybe the meeting with Sam had triggered something lasting in him. Maybe some switch had been flipped in him. Maybe he was feeling too much right now and was just being an emotional mess. Maybe it happened out of the moment. Maybe he was admitting something to himself here that he hadn’t known himself yet. 

What he knew for sure was that Angel was changing him, too. Which was a damn good thing. 

That’s why he sent Angel one last message, purposely including a double meaning. 

**RambleOnIm67:**   
_Finally, in the future I see you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced/quoted:
> 
> "Simple Man" by Lynyrd Skynyrd (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMmTkKz60W8)
> 
> "Walking in Memphis" by Marc Cohn (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PgRafRp-P-o)
> 
> "Message in a Bottle" by The Police (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbXWrmQW-OE)
> 
> "Have A Little Faith In Me" by John Hiatt (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7aYxMuLb3h8)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	20. Angel ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 20! Things are intensifying... :) 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Castiel**

**November 4, 6:32 a.m.**   
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_My sweet Angel,_   
_I dreamt of you last night. Weird, huh? I mean, I didn’t exactly see anything in the dream. It was more about the feelings. And oh, lemme tell you how many of those we experienced and lost ourselves in. ;-) We were somewhere in nature, though. So much green, water, beautiful flowers. Dunno where it was but it was really a sight to remember. And it was such a beautiful dream. Like, it was so good I could delve into it once more – right now._

_Anyway. I feel like the past few days have really changed something between us. Right?_

_Meaning I’ve already felt so close to you before but it’s different now. So much better. Sometimes, I don’t even realize we’re writing anymore because it feels like talking to you. It’s- I can’t even put this into words and that’s saying something. Mmm. It’s a bit too early in the day to write you this, probably, but I had so many feelings after waking up._

_I can’t even tell how many messages we’ve written back and forth by now. But what I can say with conviction is that with every day, actually with every message, it feels more familiar between us. Angel, I genuinely adore this way we’re going here. Ya know that right? That I want this more than anything?_

_Am so happy at the moment._

_So much in my life is just better, developing positively since we’ve met. You contribute a lot to that, I realize. But I’m finally doing more for myself again, taking care of myself, my health. I dare to dream. Even though there’s a lot on my plate again today, the weight on my shoulders doesn't feel as heavy as usual._

_Anyway, we should pay a little more attention to our sleep rhythm. I feel bad because by now I keep you awake until 2 a.m. every night (or longer)._

_Or, on the contrary, do I not feel bad at all, but absolutely overwhelmed? So full of bliss that I find more and more energy in myself every day - despite the lack of sleep? Well, you may guess. :-)_

_My brother called yesterday, by the way. We only talked for 20 minutes, but it really feels better between us. Although I still approach the whole situation with a healthy skepticism, I’m glad. Relieved._

_The fact that I haven’t heard from my dad in weeks now, since the night before I left, makes me uneasy. I didn’t feel like bringing it up with my brother because the subject would have just tipped the mood again. He shortly mentioned dad’s on one of his stupid missions again, working a lot, investigating, I dunno. Still. There’s something about it that worries me._

_But today I really don’t feel like worrying about something like that. Today is supposed to be a super sunny day. Lifts the mood even more._

_I hope Hannah will get in touch. I wish you that with all my heart._

_Oh well, good luck with your appointment. I know it’s not for another three days, but I’m sure it will go well. And I’m convinced you’ll keep your job. Ain’t a doubt about that. If not - there are other jobs._

_You know, it’s only been - wait a sec - 3 hours and 14 minutes since we last exchanged messages, and I yearn for you again._

_Dammit, Angel, this is getting "worse" every day. Just like the tingling in my stomach._

_By the way, my best friend says she’s never seen me run around permanently grinning, and being so accommodating. Mmm, if she says so. :-)_

_Miss you. Thinking of you._

_RambleOn_

**November 4, 7:05 a.m.**   
**From: AngelMuses**

_Good morning. :-)_   
_Thanks for your motivation, I’ll be glad when I get the appointment over with. I guess I have already pictured all the horror scenarios in my head. Good luck to you on your special assignment today. I miss you, too._

**November 4, 7:18 a.m.**   
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_Will be online at 1 a.m. Write me then?_

**November 4, 7:21 a.m.**   
**From: AngelMuses**

_Definitely. :-)_

Work was good this day. Castiel felt motivated. Mostly due to RambleOn’s messages, but also thinking of the book club in the evening.

When he thought about their messages and their latest chats, lasting until the late night hours, he smiled and felt so warm inside. RambleOnIm67 was right. They were closer now, so much closer.

The scavenger hunt had been a good idea. Castiel still thought back fondly on that day. Since then, something had definitely changed between him and RambleOnIm67. They had become more intimate and were even more connected on an intellectual and emotional level.

Ever since the other had sent him his heartbreaking message in a bottle, revealing his dreams, Castiel thought about him even more. He wished to see him, hopefully embrace him, and finally meet in reality the man who stirred so much in him.

Nevertheless, he was afraid that right now was not the best time, considering the inner and outer battles he was fighting. Although Ruby was soon not allowed to approach him and he avoided her completely, Castiel still felt insecure.

Moreover, he wished that he could finally stop hiding, finally stop having to cover his identity from those who only wanted to harm him. That he would no longer have to leave this subject unspoken with his parents. That his urgent e-mail to the dean wouldn’t have been necessary. That he didn’t have to fear their upcoming appointment. All of this.

However, there would never be THE perfect time to meet, and every meeting with RambleOnIm67 would be magical and beautiful since it was him Castiel would see. Castiel was sure of it.

RambleOnIm67 was going through stressful days. Although they had written almost every day since he had returned from his brother, Castiel noticed how tense the other was. Sometimes he had suddenly stopped replying, breaking off in mid-sentence, only to send a cursing message half an hour later that he had fallen asleep in front of the laptop.

Once RambleOnIm67 told him that he preferred to write to him from his sofa because that was where they exchanged most messages and where, in a sense, their correspondence had begun.

He had added that he still enjoyed sending him brief snippets of thoughts and associations from the road or work, simply because it made him feel even more connected.

Another time RambleOn had written that he enjoyed writing him when lying in bed, snuggled up in his blanket. He had written that their conversations felt more intimate and that he felt more brave to write about the tingling sensations he had never felt in his entire life and wanted to explore with him. Every time RambleOn wrote him things like that, Castiel’s heart beat unnaturally fast.

Still. He worried about his rambler who was working even harder again, as if he had to make up for the week he had been away. Of course, he wasn’t in a position to give RambleOnIm67 sage advice when he had his own head deep in work.

At noon, RambleOnIm67 sent him another message. Castiel was in his office waiting for his student when he saw a notification in his inbox. By now he liked RambleOnIm67’s messages way too much, they brightened his day and so at least at lunchtime he sometimes put his discipline aside to have a quick chat with him. Since he knew other colleagues did the same, he couldn’t feel guilty about it.

" _Okay, don’t laugh. Haven’t done this in forever. But I had to wait for a customer earlier this week who was stuck in traffic. And my mind is always too much. Thought I put all my creativity into something useful. Once I started, I couldn’t stop anymore. Did this in my breaks._

 _My boss got curious 'cause I was so involved. He wasn’t angry or anything. Just - well. He was just in a friggin‘ good mood, I guess. It was weird. He laughed so much, it made me so happy. He told me that I looked healthier and stuff. Huh. Then he wanted to know what I was doing. Long story short. He called me an idjit (affectionately) and forced me to send you this. And I figured you could use some motivation. So - have fun?_ “

Attached were three photos, each of sheets of paper with drawings that quickly turned out to be comic strips. Castiel was struck by the detail he could see, and immediately noticed that it was about him. Depicted was a little angel called "Mr. Adork“.

The first picture showed only the angel. Castiel laughed out loud when he noticed how detailed the other had proceeded. What struck him immediately was the contrast. Everything was drawn in pencil, except for the angel which had been worked in pastels or something similar.

The little angel had black, very wispy hair, not unlike his hairstyle. He wore a kind of white robe, with a golden pattern. Most striking, however, were the eyes. Large and round, the other had drawn them, and so blue. Magical. The wings were especially detailed, the feathers almost popping out of the paper. The angel looked truly gorgeous, otherworldly and mesmerizing. Castiel’s heart warmed even before he began to read.

The story started in heaven, of course, with a brief introduction of the living situation. Mr. Adork lived on a cloud, in a small cottage with a fireplace. Castiel saw that the living room had also been drawn - with an old television, a leather armchair, and a music system from which notes rose into the air.

The more details Castiel discovered, the more he was touched by what he saw before him. First, he learned a brief backstory. The angel who was performing mindless tasks in heaven and who exchanged ideas with the other angels but did not really feel understood.

It seemed to be customary to undergo some sort of procreation ritual through togetherness, something that Mr. Adork visibly disliked. The details of his vivid expression made Castiel smile, though his heart ached as he thought of his past with the foster families.

One saw the angel knocking on various doors, being a guest there, but not staying anywhere for long. One saw various conflicts, screams, insults, always amplified with lightning and huge flames in the background.

Another picture showed a stairway, a really impressively drawn stairway, but it didn’t point up, it was curved, showing different directions. It had no real end. The stairway had different types of steps, angles and patterns. And it sometimes bore the tiny inscription "blissway“.

Then events came thick and fast, and Mr. Adork landed on earth, illustrated by a hole that opened in the sky, showing a kind of tube into which another stairway was placed. A stairway that wound around a chute.

On four pictures in a row Castiel saw short snapshots in time. Mr. Adork in a ruin, Mr. Adork in a suit and with a mysterious shadow behind him. Mr. Adork in a library. Mr. Adork in the middle of a forest, surrounded by trees also drawn in color.

Each image was filled with thought bubbles that just so aptly reflected his own state of mind. Castiel felt so much the further he read.

He saw pictures that didn’t really show a place, but that expressed so much. That reminded him of light, even though the image itself had no colors except the angel’s.

He saw many, many letterings, chaotically scattered across the picture and in various sizes. Some lettering was in capital letters, some completely curved, some as cursive, some completely illegible, some dabbed on the paper like tears.

And only when Castiel looked a second time did he see that individual scraps of their conversations were depicted there. On the next pictures he saw scraps of paper, he saw more musical notes, he saw treasure chests, he saw drawn footprints. More steps, paths, streets. A car.

The more symbolic the pictures became, the more he felt. The pictures became more colorful, more chaotic, and at the same time more captivating. All of them told a story.

The second to last picture was again Mr. Adork, looking at the horizon. In the lower right angle of the picture was a strange hand, intertwined with that of the angel.

At the last image, Castiel drew in a sharp breath and his whole body prickled.

It was the face of Mr. Adork, zoomed in, almost filling the whole picture. His eyes were positively shining, the smile was pure happiness. He was looking at someone. You could see only half the face of the other figure, saw the one who was supposed to represent RambleOnIm67. Green eyes, a striking face that was also lit up by a smile. Lips puckered into a kiss.

In the left corner of the picture said: "TBC in reality :-)“

Castiel was sobbing, and he didn’t care that he was sitting in his office. It was all so much. And so beautiful.

He cried until a signal reminded him of his office hours.

Briefly, he typed a message to RambleOnIm67.

" _This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and this is not an exaggeration. But I shouldn’t be surprised since you are the spring. The creator. Thank you. I imagine kissing you now, that much is for certain. (Which is not advisable since I have an appointment in a few minutes.) Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I have no words. Now I am sending YOU a virtual embrace. Or two or..._ “

***

His subsequent office hours went very well. He would make one student in particular pleased with today’s talk. Castiel sat behind his desk and pointed to the chair in front of him. "Why don’t you sit down?“ Silently, she did as she was told, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.

"First of all, congratulations, you passed the midterm with flying colors. You can see the exact results later this week.“ She smiled delightedly, but remained silent. "Now for your essay. What can I say?“

He opened the paper and turned each page individually. "I haven’t come across anything like it from a sophomore.“ Looking up again, he smiled gently. "Great analysis, interesting conclusions. Linguistically and formally flawless.“

His student was obviously very relieved. She left his office with a big smile, and Castiel was pleased that he had still been able to pass on his energy in this way. After a late afternoon lecture, he made a quick stop at home before heading to the library. This time, the building actually looked a lot busier.

Outside, he immediately spotted Dean leaning casually against the wall of the building. He was wearing a military jacket, a dark gray scarf, and a big grin.

"Oy, stranger! What’s your business here?“ Dean repeated these sentences five times to crescendo until Castiel hissed, not without lauging quietly.

"You have to stop calling me this. People are going to assume I am molesting you or trying to kidnap you.“

Dean had folded his arms in front of his chest and gazed at him for what felt like two minutes. Normally, Castiel felt uncomfortable when being looked at like that, but Dean always gave him good, very good feelings.

With Dean, Castiel felt so seen. It was a strange assessment but it was also the truth. Castiel couldn’t quite explain this familiarity between them.

Dean clicked his tongue. "Yeah. Can’t promise you to stop that.“ He shrugged, still grinning broadly. "So, it worked out. We’re both here. Same place, same time.“

Dean’s entire face glowed and Castiel was unable to look away. He didn’t mean to stare at Dean but Dean’s aura was radiant. Dean’s expression and especially his eyes told him so much, yet at the same time created more questions with every second.

"Yes.“

"Wanna head in, Constantine?“

Castiel cocked his head to the side, trying to understand the reference Dean had just made. He had heard of a film with that name, yet never seen it. It was about a demon hunter interfering with Hell and Heaven which didn’t sound like a compliment to him.

"You do appreciate my character, don’t you?“ Castiel said.

Dean, who was already about to go inside, turned his head back. "Duh. Thought it was obvious since we’re becoming friends and all.“ He rolled his eyes in a playful way, his dimples reappearing.

Then he jerked his entire body around and opened his mouth very wide, making it look like an O, which was a strange but heartwarming sight.

"Ohh, the reference. Always forget how bad you are at this stuff. Seriously, sometimes you have so much in common with this guy I’ve kinda started romancing, by now.“

Dean grinned. "You are even as socially awkward and sincere as him. I dunno what that says about me and my social contacts. Never mind, wasn’t meant negatively. At all. Oh, and I appreciate your kindness, it’s awesome to witness.Dunno, you just have a thing or two in common with him, I guess. Some day, I gotta put you two in a room and just watch the chaos unfold.“

Dean grinned even more, now so openly and warmly that Castiel couldn’t help but return the laughter. Castiel was glad Dean had someone to make him smile like that. The other man, his love interest, seemed to be doing him good, something that was a welcome turn of events given all the worries Dean seemed to be carrying around.

If Dean was only halfway as happy as Castiel was when communicating with RambleOn – it really must be a good man Dean had met.

"I wasn’t making any connection between you and Constantine, Cas. It’s just the trench coat, buddy,“ Dean then said, pointing to his clothing in question.

"What’s the matter with my coat?“ Castiel asked, his voice immediately defensive.

"Nothing. He’s wearing one in the movie and you reminded me of that image, I dig your coat. It’s so fancy and gives you this special aura. I just really like it.“ Dean shrugged his shoulders. "It suits you.“

"I understand,“ Castiel said because he hadn’t expected such a response. Usually people like Balthazar merely criticized his outfit choices, or eyed him strangely when he appeared anywhere wearing them. He had never understood those reactions because he really liked the coat and it was a part of him.

"Oh, but one thing is worth mentioning. He’s fighting demons, ya know, the evil guys. Excorsising 'em. And he can see the true form of half-angels and half-demons which is so symbolic for people in general if you ask me. Looking under the surface and all. Which is so, well, you.“

Castiel tilted his head in confusion, whereupon Dean chuckled. He really had a warm and contagious laugh, Castiel noticed not for the first time.

"Cas you do realize you have this intense way of looking at people, right?“

Dean cleared his throat, lowering his gaze as if on cue, before staring at him again. As if just confirming his statement, they held eye contact again. It was long and intense, indeed.

Castiel wanted to tell him that it might be true that he was a bit peculiar in that respect, but that he definitely didn’t stare at anyone as long as he did with Dean, which seemed strange to him the longer he thought about it.

Dean resumed speaking, still smirking. "But most importantly, the guy wanna make amends for a sin he’s made in the past, so he can climb the stairway to heaven. I mean, I’m not exactly religious, more like the 'I-gotta-see-it-with-my-own eyes-guy', but I like the thought here. Trying to do good things and helping people to achieve something better for themselves.“

Dean really had an interesting take on things. From what Castiel knew about the film so far, he certainly would not have drawn such conclusions, but he liked how Dean interpreted these aspects.

As far as this part of his explanation was concerned, Castiel could identify with it to some extent. Not in the literal sense, since he didn’t fight real demons, but the everyday demons and bad things and behaviors of others. And yes, he tried to do good things.

Castiel smiled broadly at Dean. "I am fascinated. You always talk so lightly but the next second you offer these interesting and profound insights. I find that quite extraordinary. Thank you for the compliment.“

Now Dean looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite interpret. There was warmth, wildness, and wonder in his eyes, and such incredible intensity.

Castiel would have liked to question him about his reactions, but it was about time they went inside if he didn’t want to miss another one of those book club meetings.

The book club appealed to him. First he introduced himself briefly, which fortunately was no big deal. He simply gave his name, told how Dean had turned him onto this book club, and added a sentence or two about why he enjoyed literature so much.

During the book club, there was little opportunity to talk more personally with Dean, but Castiel was soon so caught up in the discussions anyway that he was completely in his element. First, there was a general introduction before delving deep into the subject at hand.

More specifically, they discussed well-known fantasy novels that were primarily in the realm of young adult literature, including "His Dark Materials", "The Hobbit", and "The Chronicles of Narnia".

At first, this choice seemed unusual to Castiel for a book club, since many of the topics to be covered were very existential and profound. He had not expected to explore such questions in this book club. On the other hand, it explained why Dean in particular seemed to have taken such a liking to this club.

For the other had indeed a very analytical manner about him, which Castiel liked very much. A few times Castiel glanced at Dean, who sat spellbound on his chair. His entire facial expression looked thoughtful, and he devoted all his attention to the discussion.

This topic had apparently been the wish of one of the participants, as Castiel soon learned. It was not supposed to be about pure content, but initially also about social and moral aspects which Castiel already found exciting.

At the beginning, they collected associations to works of this kind, and Castiel felt a bit reminded of seminars. Quickly, however, they moved into much freer discussions. For example, Pamela and Gordon, named theses by certain authors to which they should respond.

They talked about Bilbo’s heroes journey and discussed Tolkien’s view that his work, although obvious, should not be seen as an allegory for the conditions in World War I.

Religion was another important topic which seemed to fuel the discussion. Since C. S. Lewis had been convinced angels had been real beings, making their way in a real universe and leaving their imprint in human lives, they quickly talked about his work regarding religious themes – a popular way of analysis.

Moreover, they discussed the multiverses and the criticism of religion in "His Dark Materials" and how it connected to John Milton’s "Paradise Lost". They took up the controversies and tried to put them in context. They also addressed how Philip Pullman had criticized the works of Tolkien and Lewis in particular.

For Castiel, sharing religious opinions on a larger scale, in a context that didn’t include his family or a study environment, was entirely unfamiliar and demanding. He quickly found that much was happening to him.

The longer they discussed the subject of religion, the more it stirred in him. In fact, the discussions became so heated and detailed that they had to postpone some topics and themes to later meetings.

Then they speculated about "The Chronicles of Narnia" on a literary level which Castiel had read but not yet considered from an interpretive point of view.

Dean, however, was on pins and needles, seemingly unable to wait to speak on the subject. Castiel found this interesting. Although "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" in particular had become a pop culture classic and had been adapted as a movie, he had never seriously considered the novel series or the author.

They talked about how his work was commonly classified as apolitical and associated with escapism because of the strong wardrobe metaphor. At this, Dean interjected the short phrase, "It’s about creating a sweet harmony between reality and fantasy“ which somehow stuck with Castiel.

After a heated conversation in which many interesting aspects were brought to bear, Pamela initiated another closing discussion. "Some fantasy works discussed have high popularity and know how to entertain, but bring no deeper meaning to literature.“

"I think that statement is complete bullshit,“ Dean blurted out, causing some people to laugh.

"Don’t get me wrong, works written during wartime, for example, or based on difficult times in general, are incredibly important, after all, they deal with what happened and process the guilt. Same goes for more personal stories, inspired by a person’s experiences and struggles in life. But part of coming to terms with the past is also taking new courage and soaking up the beauty.

And such works of language and imagery as we are discussing here help with these very things, I think. Because that’s what it does, and art in general. Make sense where you might not find any in normal life, and give answers to questions that touch you deep inside. Or simply tell stories that touch you and make you think for a long time to come. In the best case, it changes a person’s perspective on the world or oneself. Why should fantasy be any less good at that than a historically accurate work?“

Even when the discussion was over, Castiel continued to think about the words spoken for a long time. This was partly because they had talked a lot about religious topics, and partly because the question of the meaningfulness of literature occupied his mind for a long time.

He thought about the fact he wanted to inspire and move people with his writing, he thought about creating characters that freely lived same-sex love.

He thought about RambleOn who had named "Sun-Kissed" as the work which love story he found most touching. Which was his example to dream for, even if his version was supposed to be much better and happier. It had touched him so much that RambleOn loved his work so much. Castiel hoped he could tell him soon - that he was the author. He wanted to tell him. 

Perhaps the discussions had touched something in him personally, perhaps he had simply been taken in by Dean’s fervor.

Subliminally, he registered that his cell phone was vibrating. Frowning, he reached for the device and his heart beat faster. It was a message from Hannah.

"I received your letter and the package, thank you. Please don’t contact me again. H.“

This was exactly what he had feared. Hannah still hadn’t forgiven him, after all these years. He didn’t understand, it didn’t enter his head. Given how volatile the situation was in every way at the time, he had let a lot of time pass before even getting back in touch with her. That she reacted so curtly and downright coldly stung him.

Theoretically, it should not concern him so much, not after all this time. So many years had passed, Hannah and he were completely different people now. Maybe it had been a mistake to believe that the situation would improve.

He would have preferred to burst into tears, but that seemed more than inappropriate, after all, he was still in the public eye.

Only a husky "Cas“ snapped him out of his thoughts. Castiel looked up and immediately felt himself confronted with Dean’s penetrating gaze. Dean, who was eyeing him as if his eyes were looking directly into his soul, wanting to turn all the bad into something good. How could a single glance convey such a thing to him?

"Did ya even hear me?“

"Obviously not,“ Castiel said without thinking.

Dean laughed and shook his head. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just continued to stare at Castiel.

"You look terrible, by the way,“ Dean commented, echoing the words Castiel had told him in his apartment.

"I figured, yes.“

"Ya wanna talk?“

"No,“ Castiel said, narrowing his eyes. That was a rude answer, he found. "I mean. Yes, I want to continue talking to you, but this is not the best topic. My-“ He wanted to say sister, but family topics still brought more pressure to a situation. Besides, he’d have to elaborate for that, and he didn’t want to scare Dean away with sad life stories at the very beginning of their friendship.

"I contacted an old friend who I haven’t heard from in a while. She didn’t react the way I have hoped for.“ Castiel shrugged, once again feeling the past hovering over him. He felt the good mood of the day seep into the ground like a thick syrup. With its mass fighting to stay above, yet sinking.

He would have preferred to go home immediately, bury himself in bed, and think about nothing and no one. But no, that was the wrong approach. Dean was being genuinely kind to him, and Castiel sensed a genuine concern in the latter’s demeanor.

"Gotcha,“ Dean said, nodding. "Okey-dokey. Then we don’t talk about our problematic stuff. Ain’t too eager for that, either. Let’s get some coffee and go for a walk.“

"Coffee at 9 p.m.?“

"Hey, it’s a thing. If I remember correctly, and trust me I do, there was this awesome guy who invited me for coffee in the middle of the night a while back. I figured coffee would or should be our code word when comfort seems appropriate.“ Dean grinned again, and now Castiel could only return his laughter.

"That sounds nice.“

And so they got coffee to go and went for a walk. They walked and chatted for more than two hours. Without hesitation, without ever pausing.

Dean was so eloquent, and Castiel felt dumb-founded by his way to express himself. It was seldom, very seldom his conversation partner would draw conclusions and develop thoughts even faster and with more profundity than he did.

Castiel liked Dean, he was a fascinating and captivating person. On the surface, he seemed to be a very attractive, flirty and quick-witted man – which he was, objectively speaking, but Castiel didn’t really pay attention to these matters at this point.

For one, his heart only beat faster when thinking about his beautiful rambler. This man made his body tingle and warmed his being in a romantic sense. Second, Dean just seemed to be this way with other people.

Since he had gotten to know Dean much better by now, he could confirm the other was much more intelligent than average people and also more insightful and amusing.

Although Dean seemed to be talented in his job as a mechanic, Castiel couldn’t help but picture him in a scholarly context. With books and words.

They actually talked almost exclusively about books, still Castiel felt like they were really talking about everything. It did him good to talk to Dean, surprisingly good. With him, he didn’t have to hide his passion for literature and his specific interests, and this was a wonderful feeling.

For other people, their talks must seem boring and very dry since they were discussing so many details about themes, language and plot. Still, for Castiel this was an excellent conversation. And he felt honored they were becoming friends.

When he finally arrived home, he felt better. Worries about Hannah and certain homophobic comments still weighed on him, but he would handle the situation. He thought about RambleOnIm67 and the prospect that they would see each other soon enough. 

He saw a mail notification that RambleOnIm67 had messaged him.

Joyfully, he logged into Geekatism, went to his inbox. Then he realized several things at once.

First, he saw that everything was blank. Castiel reloaded the page several times because he had noticed that loading errors did not show details of the page. At the same time, he saw a message from RambleOnIm67, a quote from Romeo and Juliet which he had sent him less than an hour ago.

" _Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow._ "

On the surface, the quote spoke of parting, but it also expressed hope. Juliet called it a sweet sorrow for a reason, and the quote described the joy of the morning. The moment when RambleOnIm67 would write to him again, apparently.

What did that mean? Something had happened, Castiel had to focus on this, rather than panicking.

RambleOnIm67 had gotten into an emergency, otherwise Castiel could not explain the sudden disappearance without further explanation. The quote was the strongest indicator. Castiel wished he knew what had occurred. This condition overwhelmed him. What could he do?

What was he trying to tell him?

Castiel wrote him a short message, one sentence asking if everything was okay. The message could not be sent. Their other messages also still did not show up.

Only then did Castiel notice that RambleOnIm67’s username was grayed out. Meanwhile, two red system messages had appeared in place of his failed message.

_Message could not be sent._

_RambleOnIm67: This account has been deactivated._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow." -> from "Romeo and Juliet" by William Shakespeare
> 
> Don't worry - I promise this will be resolved very soon! :) RambleOnIm67 still likes Angel (soooo... much). ;)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	21. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 21! I didn’t want to leave it at this cliffhanger. :) 
> 
> And yes, I chose the cheesy song in the chapter's beginning on purpose. We're climbing the "blissway" after all :D
> 
> I’m really grateful for everyone who’s reading this. :) Thank you for your support and your kind words – this means so much to me. :) 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Castiel**

What had happened? Castiel felt so anxious after today’s developments, and it was getting worse by the second.

He called Gabriel, knowing that his brother was definitely still awake. Although he didn’t plan to give him any details, Gabriel would see right through him. But at that moment, he didn’t care. There had to be a rational explanation, there had to be.

"Cassie, you nighthawk. Do I have to bail you out of jail?“

Castiel rolled his eyes. A tiny smile formed on his lips, although his throat was completely dry and he felt like crying. He was sure that his rambler had not maliciously abandoned him, that could not be. But with his situation in general, everything just became too much for him.

"I am calling you from my phone, Gabriel.“  
"Yes, yes. Details. Spare me with those.“ A stretched yawn followed, eventually turning into a sigh. "What’s going on?“

"I sent Hannah my first novel and wrote her a letter,“ Castiel continued, not knowing how else to explain his conflicting feelings.

"And?“ Gabriel sounded more impatient with every word.  
"She still hates me.“  
"Oh,“ it came from the other end of the line. "She really is a stubborn one. I don’t get her. You literally saved her ass. She should get down off her high horse.“

Gabriel uttered a few explicit curses before sighing again. "What can I do to help?“

"Nothing, really. Maybe it’s better when I don’t think about her right now.“ Castiel felt miserable the longer he thought about his failed attempt.

"Mmm. Not satisfying. Tell me about your crush then.“  
"That’s also not a good topic,“ Castiel muttered.

"Why? Thought you two were already having fun on cloud 9.“  
"Mmm.“ Castiel did not know what to say. Maybe it had been a mistake to call Gabriel. Sighing, he described to him what had happened with Rambler. That he had first written such emotional and sweet messages, where he had really looked forward to the next chat, only to realize that the other had deactivated his profile.

"It’s temporary.“ Gabriel said.  
"What?“  
"Something happened. He panicked. I’m sure he’ll think of something romantic to reach out to you again. I mean you two are so sweet with each other, it’s disgusting.“  
"You solely know 2 percent of your correspondence.“

"Exactly. Point is still valid.“ Castiel snorted, and shook his head. Gabriel was incorrigible, but maybe that was why it was good to talk to him.

"Look. You can’t write him now. Just think of it as a failure from the site. It happens. Nothing to worry about. Tomorrow’s a new day, maybe the morning will give you new insights.“

"That’s funny. He sent me a quote, mentioning how good mornings are.“  
"See? I get your man.“  
"Thank you.“  
"Any time.“

They continued talking for a while after that, and Castiel felt better when they hung up. At least a little. Still, he needed to distract himself. He tried to watch a documentary, but as soon as he saw the animals, he thought of his musings about his favorite documentaries to Rambler, and he thought of the cute photo of the angelfish the other had sent him from the aquarium.

Shaking his head, he turned off the TV again because he certainly wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a movie without thinking about Rambler’s pop culture references and his amusing comments. Meanwhile, Rambler wrote him a sort of live blog when he watched movies which almost made Castiel feel like he was watching the movie right along with him.

At that moment, his heart ached so much, longed for Rambler so much, that he felt dizzy. In order to do something meaningful, he made himself a late dinner. For indeed he had not eaten since early afternoon. Of course, as he cooked in the middle of the night, he reflected on Rambler’s cooking tips and recipes that he had sent him on so many occasions.

Finally, Castiel did the only thing that really helped him in such moments - he continued writing his novel. As he wrote, he automatically thought of RambleOnIm67. So far, the other had been completely his inspiration, his muse, driving him to new writing heights and best performances.

When he thought of the term muse, he in turn thought of his own username, which on the one hand implied philosophizing, and on the other hand had already been used by his rambler in his message as a double pun for muse. Right from the start of their correspondence.

Castiel uttered a frustrated sound because in these minutes simply everything seemed to remind him of Rambler. In multiple senses, in all the little details.

The whole novel so far rested on what he felt during their conversations and this experience in general. What it triggered in him. And now he wrote even more wildly than before, even more passionately.

In the process, he lost all sense of space and time. It was only the sky, bathed in a beautiful pink-red, that alerted him to the fact that he had been writing into the wee hours of the morning.

A few hours later he was startled by a notification from Geekatism. Was it his rambler? Castiel’s heart beat accelerated.

He opened the page again, only to frown afterwards.

The user "LostInOzBitches“ had written to him in chat. Who was that now?

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_Hey AngelMuses, this might come off extremely weird but a veeery good friend of mine asked me for a favor. He said I should tell you he isn’t gone with the wind. And that he misses you. (I added the last one. It’s true, though. He’s in complete pining mode. Gosh.)_

Was this person talking about RambleOn? Or was someone trying to hose him? Castiel was not sure. He didn’t know what to believe anymore, and he didn’t feel like joking.

**AngelMuses:**  
_Prove it._

After less than three minutes, five messages followed directly after each other.

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_“Music in the soul can be heard by the universe.”_

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_"Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.“_

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_"Not just ordinary stairs,“ Skulduggery told her as he led the way down. " Magic stairs.“_

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_"What a peculiar privilege has this little agitation of the brain which we call 'thought‘.“_

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_"You can kiss me in the moonlight_  
_On the rooftop under the sky, or_  
_You can kiss me with the windows open_  
_While the rain comes pouring inside_  
_Kiss me in sweet slow motion_  
_Let’s let every thing slide_  
_You got me floating, you got me flying "_

**AngelMuses:**  
_I believe you._

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_Mr. Adork. It’s me. Hope you liked the quotes. :-) Logged into my friend’s account to write you. Didn’t wanna create a new one since the situation makes me anxious (for reasons) and I fully intend to reactivate my real one soon. I’m nostalgic. ;-) Gimme a few days to solve this._

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_Um. Remember what you told me about your old employer? Friggin‘ assholes. That stuff really can suck, can get to you in the present, huh?_

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_My profile is deactivated, FOR NOW. You will not get rid of me. Let’s keep this short. Left you a note at you-know-where with further explanations and some more personal stuff. And I promise: RambleOn will be back in old ramble-glory in a few days._

**AngelMuses:**  
_Oh. I am relieved._

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_Angel, are you crying?_

Castiel laughed and sobbed simultaneously. It was unbelievable how many little details Rambler noticed by now.

**AngelMuses:**  
_Yes. You know me very well. I had a tough day and feared I lost you._

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_NOOOO! Never. Listen. I really, really can’t stress this enough. I will not vanish or anything. I want this. I want you. That ain’t gonna change._

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_Sweetheart, you are SO friggin‘ important to me._

Sweetheart. Rambler had never called him this as a real nickname. Of course, he had mentioned he was a sweetheart, but being directly addressed like that felt different. Castiel’s body tingled. It felt so intimate to him, so extraordinary and pure and bliss-giving.

**AngelMuses:**  
_And you to me. I feel angry that this happened._

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_Uh-huh. You name it. I’m running wild now. Not gonna crumble or perish. You’ll see. Hey, Angel?_

**AngelMuses:**  
_Yes?_

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_Read the note. Oh, and listen to "Fade Into You“ by Mazzy Star tonight. It’s damn sensual and always makes my body and my heart ache, but I felt like yearning today. Stay strong and have a little faith in me, my Angel._

**LostInOzBitches:**  
_I think of you. Okay? All the time. Gonna solve this and write you ASAP. Gonna log out again, cannot be careful enough right now. Gotta protect you from this crap._

Castiel felt so relieved, so wonderfully relieved. He felt like he was flying. Therefore, he put on the song Rambler had quoted in his chat messages. "This Kiss". It was a cheerful song, and Castiel felt even happier as he listened to it and thought of his rambler.

First he went to Gabriel’s café, who immediately raised his eyebrow. He told him something along the lines that Castiel should put a bag over his head. Then he asked whether Castiel had no decency, after all, the rest of the population still had to go about their normal day without getting rainbows and glitter thrown in their faces.

It was fine. Rambler had only wanted to protect him. From his father, apparently. Castiel suspected the latter had somehow come across Rambler’s profile. Had tracked it down, more likely invaded it, he thought with a grumble.

He had breakfast with Gabriel, engaged in an amusing and delightful conversation with him. Then he headed to college where he was going to do some research anyway.

In the library, it took him a while to find RambleOn's note. In a sense, he embarked on another mini scavenger hunt. First he spotted a short note on the bulletin board that simply read: "Dork. Electra really is a character to remember.“

At first, Castiel grinned at the choice of work. Rambler really was an insightful and ingenious person. The contrast between doing what was right and what was considered honorable. The relationship between siblings. Finding each other again and building a team.

The protagonist, Electra, had lost her father Agamemnon early in terrible circumstances and could not forgive her mother. Electra was devoted to honor, justice and reverence and was on a vendetta.

Orestes was her brother which Electra had saved after their father’s death and brought him to a king who looked after him. Afterwards the siblings had been separated for many years, and had not gotten involved in each other's lives.

Orestes tended to naivety and possessed more juvenile inexperience than Electra, believing more quickly in the things prescribed to him by Apollo’s oracle. Nevertheless, he developed a plan to revenge their father’s death and was set on killing their mother.

Although Electra was at times a morally difficult character worthy of discussion, Castiel understood what Rambler was trying to tell him. That he also undertook a vendetta against his adversaries. In his own way, Rambler was often enough a dork himself, he thought to himself.

After several attempts, he finally found the edition of "Electra" he was looking for, which contained another message. No doubt on purpose, the message was right next to the passage, "You’re dreaming, girl, lost in a moving dream.“

The quote reminded him of Rambler’s words on floating dreams and his wish to gain a better reality than a dream could ever show or give him. The note’s hint led Castiel to Homer’s "Odyssey", reminding him of their talks about wandering, the search for their home or place of belonging.

Castiel excitedly unfolded the note.

" _Hey, you. :-) All hell breaks loose. I gotta tell you. This is a whole other level of fucked up. My dad really doesn’t know when to stop. Ya remember what I told you about my dad yesterday? The case he was investigating according to my brother? Turns out the case was me._

_Glad I noticed immediately. My best friend asked me why I was online. For this you gotta know she knew I couldn’t be online at this point 'cause I was out and busy._

_Well. She dug some more, and found out the person had logged in from another state. Not suspicious at all, huh? This occurred ONLY on November 4, though. Which is a relief._

_Apparently, my dad had managed to find my profile. And now I’m not sure whether I mentioned Geekatism at one point to my brother or maybe dad even saw me using it. I dunno. Fuck._

_Mmm. But this time. He crossed a line he shouldn’t have crossed. My best friend is a pro at this stuff. One couldn’t find anyone better. So. She secured our messages first thing, then she hid them. We already contacted the operators of the platform._

_My dad will pay for this sooner or later. He thinks he acts so smoothly but we’re one step ahead of him now. Just a little patience. Oh, it will be sweet._

_My friend just wants to make extra sure he can’t hack into the profile again. By the way: You definitely have to change your mail and password. Promise me that. Other than that, all should be fine._

_Sorry for the chaos. Told ya, my dad is an asshole. Ugh. Can’t even let me indulge on my comfort platform. I registered there to forget about his abusive behavior back in the days._

_Well. Worked out just fine._

_But he won’t crush me. He ain’t winning. Not this time. Please trust me on this. I will protect you. This here. Us. All right? He will not get to us. I promise you this._

_And frankly I don’t care he might’ve read some messages. I mean, there’s no way he has read all of them. I figure only the most recent ones. Will get in touch soon. Oh, and look out for the occasional note now and then. ;-)_

_I imagine kissing you. I do that a lot. Like – right now. A virtual peck is acceptable for you, I s’pose?_

_Or two or three?_

_Well, I ain’t exactly stingy. Told ya, I like cuddling, intimacy and stuff._

_:-* :-* :-* :-*_ “

Castiel was still staring at the papers in front of him. He had had to print out their last messages because he had thought he was dreaming. Because he had thought he had imagined all this sweetness. Now he unfolded the messages every few minutes, read the messages, then folded the messages back up.

The clock was ticking. Although the hallway would be passed over and over by students or faculty, Castiel heard the clock. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Quite like he was running out of time. How much time he had wasted trying to live up to others‘ ideas, pretending and constructing a life. Until he was shaken awake. Until he received a sign, so to speak.

Once again he found himself in such a situation, whereby it was a situation that evoked old fears in him. Since childhood he struggled with his appearance, with how he often enough seemed funny to other people. Funny as in people would look at him funnily.

It started in the foster families, extended through his time at boarding school and into his college years. He behaved more confidently in his professional life, perhaps because he was completely confident in his abilities here, but now he faced another challenge.

He was 33 years old and felt like a student lining up for the piecework. Castiel sat in the waiting area in the faculty, just outside the dean’s office. The dean’s secretary had already put him off twice with a little smile, explained that the conference call was taking longer than expected.

It was about preparations for a lecture series that was to take place at the university, and Castiel himself knew how elaborate such planning could become and what pitfalls had to be avoided, how many things had to be thought of.

So both times Castiel had waved it off with a smile, replied that he was in no hurry. Although that was true, he felt more nervous by the minute. This fact alone seemed paradoxical to him, since he had been the one to ask for the interview.

When Castiel had written an email to the dean, it had been out of pure reflex. Simply because he had felt so detached after the chat with RambleOnIm67 the night before Rambler had visited his brother.

Despite his bad memories of night school, despite his fears that such a situation would arise again, he had felt so much confidence. RambleOnIm67 had described so many true things, told him this beautiful story about the soldier, and Castiel had felt a whole new feeling inside him. One that he had first pursued. Rebellion.

And yet.

Nervousness overcame him and he kneaded his hands continuously. Since they were so sweaty, his fingers kept slipping. Castiel hissed and shook his head. He had resolved to go into the interview with a positive and confident attitude.

A squeak interrupted his thoughts. The dean’s office door opened. "Mr. Novak,“ the dean greeted him warmly as always. Castiel nodded to him and reached for his briefcase. "I apologize. Please come in.“

In the office, they took their seats not at the work desk, but at a round table in the center of the room. Four chairs were spread around it, and Castiel assumed that this place was more for normal meetings that were not strictly technical. That could only be fine with him. After they briefly exchanged a few pleasantries, the dean got right to the point.

"You wanted to talk to me. It was urgent.“ He eyed him through his horn-rimmed glasses, not sternly, not accusingly, just waiting.

"Right,“ Castiel said, pausing for a moment.

He thought of RambleOnIm67 and how he had also given him renewed encouragement in his last messages.

"It’s more of a personal thing,“ Castiel explained, annoyed at the way he pressed around. He was open and direct with others, accordingly he should be the same when it came to himself. The dean just nodded and gestured for him to continue.

"Working here has always been a lot of fun for me. I’m grateful for this opportunity, and it makes me happy to be doing exactly what I’m good at. The students are inquisitive, and I’m happy for their engagement.“ Castiel sighed and stared for a moment at the bookshelf that was directly in his field of vision.

"I am gay,“ it then shot out of Castiel, still fixing his eyes on the shelf. "Since you offered me the job at the time, it never really came up why I left the old job. I think I told you about how the job didn’t fulfill me anymore, and it wasn’t right for me. That’s true, too, but probably only scratches the surface.“

Again Castiel took a deep breath, recalling a few lines from his rambler, thinking of the notes in his wallet, until he finally looked again at his interlocutor.

The dean smirked, a reaction Castiel had not expected. "Thank you for telling me, Mr. Novak. I appreciate your sincerity. I have been afraid you would give me your dismissal today. I’m glad this is not the case. Nevertheless. I hope you don’t mind me telling you one or two personal remarks.“

Castiel shook his head, baffled.

"I’m glad you got loose of those assholes. And that’s not only because we value your qualities and your insights and teaching skills. Nobody deserves a treatment like that. Prejudices are a lot of bullshit, most of the time. And they are hurtful and destroy people’s lives when there are enough indulging in those hate campaigns.“

Castiel inhaled sharply because he had never heard the dean talk like that. "Mr. Novak - Castiel,“ the dean continued. "What do you see behind me?“

Was that a trick question? Castiel squinted his eyes, trying to understand what the dean was getting at.  
"That’s a bookshelf, sir,“ Castiel replied cautiously.

"I mean what do you think about when you look at it? Humor me.“

"I see different works, all telling an unique story. Some captivate with their compelling and complex characters, some are visually and linguistically powerful, others seem confusing at first glance until the hidden motifs reveal themselves. Some works tell of the past, some seek to paint a future, whether realistic or dystopian or dreamlike. Some works are just introspection, some are biographical. Then there are the numerous nonfiction books that try to explain the world in its diversity, always picking out specific aspects.“

Castiel took his chin between his hands. "To be honest, I see the pure knowledge and depth and wonder. I see the diversity and all the stories just waiting to touch the heart or mind of maybe just one person. I see our past, present and future, stored. Ink captured on paper, but also flowing on like an endless river. Ink which sneaks the words written down into the hands of the person turning the page.“

A few seconds passed. The silence that had now fallen was familiar to Castiel. Moments like this always occurred when he spoke quite directly. Most of the time people couldn’t do anything with his absolute depth, just another reason why he appreciated RambleOnIm67 so much.

"You see, Castiel, that’s one of the reasons we wanted you. You just get it. You’re inspirational. And we would never condemn you for being gay. That would be just stupid. You’re a great person and you represent the values of this college beautifully. Because that’s what we want to achieve here. We want students to find their way, starting with the works they study, but also in the interpersonal setting.“

Castiel nodded again, not knowing where to start. He wanted to say more, wanted to reply how grateful he was for these interjections.

Instead, the dean gazed at him, shaking his head. "Castiel, I think you’re going exactly the right way. Even in terms of your works.“ Castiel now looked somewhat confused.

"I don’t know the books you’ve written under your pseudonym. But I just see your potential. You know. My best friend perished from these prejudices 30 years ago.“ He paused, swallowed, and now stared at the bookshelf behind him as well.

Only after two minutes, during which too much had flashed through Castiel’s mind, did the dean look at him again.

"Times used to be different. Still. What I’m saying is that you always have a place here. We want you to feel safe.“

Castiel felt that the clasp around his heart lifted. "Thank you. That is such an honor.“ Castiel smiled.

"Your research funds for next semester have been approved, by the way.“

"That’s great,“ said Castiel, and didn’t know how so much good fortune could have come his way all of a sudden. It was as if he had started a ball rolling himself, or at least that’s how he felt.

His research project would mean more work in addition to finishing his novel, but it was work he was happy to take on. Since he still had to prepare a lot, he just had to clear everything with Crowley. He had sent him a folder with dates for readings anyway which they would talk about in their meeting by the end of the week.

Although he was looking forward to the upcoming appointments, he was a little dreading all the days he wouldn’t be home. The rest of November would keep him busy, especially on the weekends and sometimes during the week as well.

Readings, publishing talks, courses, and the odd evening lecture. The year-end stress was in full swing, and he had known what he was getting into. Better times would come again, too. He would spend the first two weeks of December abroad, a prospect that brought him a lot of excitement. He definitely had to coordinate his schedule better with Crowley for this, he resolved.

The next few days passed so quickly that Castiel didn’t know what hit him. Appointment followed appointment, one event flowing almost seamlessly into the next. At least, he found the time to attend the book club again.

In between his obligations and appointments, he actually found smaller, seemingly random notes scattered around the library. They were mostly short messages, but every single word put a smile on Castiel’s face.

Despite all the stress, Castiel felt good. He wasn’t as agitated because he knew Rambler was still there. With him. Of course he worried about his conversation partner, his hē kalḗ pneuma, but the other seemed much more at peace with himself. He seemed so strong, so tranquil because he stood up to his father. Castiel felt so much pride and warmth and happiness.

Finally, his mail program sent him a notification from Geekatism.

**November 18, 9:06 a.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

" _HEY, DORK!!! :-*"_

Castiel paused briefly while reading because he felt so much. He could not believe how much he had missed the other. Only at that moment did everything burst out of him. All the longing, the worries, the joy, the sadness, the agitation, the wonder. Then Castiel continued reading.

" _I’m back. FUCKING FINALLY. All is good. Friggin‘ awesome. Ohh, this time dad is so screwed. Holy shit. I missed you. Missed you so much. It’s insane. My friend gave me a go one hour ago. I’m so glad she’s such a terrific coder._

_And I gotta say, I’m a sap for you._

_Look at the date and time!! 2 months since the very first message, huh? Feels like I’ve known you forever. Not an exaggeration._

_We gotta catch up later. I feel like caution is still appropriate for a while regarding the situation and stuff, although I wished we could just meet and make out, ya know. ;-)_

_Dammit, my body is overflowing with endorphins. Mmm._

_How are you? I have just so much I wanna talk about. I wanna tell you everything, I wanna hear everything. I just wanna – Ramble and Muse and the whole package (Hey, I’m pretty proud of my clever wordplay here, don’t judge me.)_

_Thrilled I’m back. Ready to ramble. :-)_ “

**November 18, 12:08 p.m.**  
**From: AngelMuses**

_:-) You’re the best (rambler). I have a (leisure) appointment in the evening. Let’s write at 10:45 p.m._

**November 18, 12:53 p.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_Well, I say you’re the best (Angel). Duh. :-) Yeah, let’s do that. Can’t wait._

Then RambleOnIm67 sent him another message, which contained only one attachment. It was another drawing, simpler than the comic, but just as expressive. Mainly Rambler had worked with blue and green.

Pictured was a heart, in the center of two other, small hearts showed, which resembled puzzle pieces that were inserted into each other. But the rest of the heart was really striking. All the edges were filled with musical notes, which were intertwined like tendrils.

The base of the main heart was formed by the two halves. They were books, as Castiel quickly realized. One blue, one green. Inscribed on them were tiny letters, respectively "Angel’s tale“ and "Rambler’s tale“.

Castiel saw that where the spine of the books usually was, they were opening as well and revealing pages. He saw that the pages of one book were interlocking with the ones from the second book.

The heart had angel wings whose shadows faded to car tires.

Oh.

Once again, Castiel felt so much at once that he couldn’t think coherently. And so he sent Rambler only two emoticons he had never used in his life.

**November 18, 13:05 p.m.**  
**From: AngelMuses**

_:-* <3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes:  
> “Music in the soul can be heard by the universe.” -> by Lao Tzu
> 
> "Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.“ -> from Ulysses by James Joyce
> 
> "Not just ordinary stairs,“ Skulduggery told her as he led the way down. "Magic stairs.“ -> from "Skulduggery Pleasant: Mortal Coil (Book 5)" by Derek Landy
> 
> "What a peculiar privilege has this little agitation of the brain which we call 'thought‘.“ -> by David Hume
> 
> "You can kiss me in the moonlight  
> On the rooftop under the sky, or  
> You can kiss me with the windows open  
> While the rain comes pouring inside  
> Kiss me in sweet slow motion  
> Let’s let every thing slide  
> You got me floating, you got me flying" -> from the song "This Kiss" by Faith Hill 
> 
> “You’re dreaming, girl, lost in a moving dream.“ -> from "Electra" by Sophocles
> 
> Referenced/quoted songs:
> 
> "This Kiss" by Faith Hill (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dls_cBmUt7Q)
> 
> "Fade Into You" by Mazzy Star (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avv2IIdDnnk)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	22. Different, yet the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 22! Things are intensifying - further. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Dean**

Dammit. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t destroy his illusions by seeing him in reality. But no, now he was here, and he was friggin' excited. So many people. Probably around 50 people had shown up. A reading. By Emmanuel Milton. From his upcoming book.

Dean felt like a little boy at Christmas. No, like a boy experiencing Christmas several times in a row.

Not that he had experienced many Christmases as a boy. The ones he remembered had been lousy. No presents, more yelling, and a lot of alcohol or absence on dad’s side. Spectacular. The last Christmases with Bobby had been wonderful, though, and he thought fondly of them. Still. Dad had really screwed up even with something as simple as Christmas.

Ugh. No, he really didn’t wanna think about dad today. No, no, no, absolutely no. This guy was even more off limits since the hacking incident. Dean had successfully ignored most of his calls over the last few days. When he had picked up, he had been on his best behavior. More or less.

Oh no, dad wouldn’t know what Dean was up to, that he was screwed. Moreover, dad wouldn’t harm him or his Angel, definitely not. The situation with Sam couldn’t be as easily resolved since dad and him would still be in the same room to support Sam – unfortunately. But the rest, that was his world.

Sam was another topic. His surgery was knocking on the front door, only a few days left. Soon, he would feel better more permanently. Hopefully. When Dean had visited Sam again a few days ago, things had been better between them. Still kinda tense, but also warmer.

Instead, he thought about Bobby. Bobby really was in a weirdly good mood. He had been buying loads of cars which needed repairs and could be sold afterwards. Furthermore, he had let Dean decide which cars to buy and how to proceed with them. Which was such a nice gesture. Yeah, Bobby had also called him an idjit 'cause he had forgotten to pick one of Bobby’s favorites, but this hadn't mattered, not really.

They had also talked a lot this week, even more than normal. He had been the one that had suggested Dean should go to the reading which took place in a different town. Bobby knew how much the book meant to him.

As soon as Charlie had heard about this, she had practically dragged him into his car. Oh, she was even more pushy and giddy since she had a girlfriend. For a few weeks now. Dean was supposed to meet her soon which made him a bit nervous. He sent Bobby and Charlie a reply, before he looked at his surroundings again.

When the reading started, things immediately got more restless around him. The owners of the bookstore announced Emmanuel Milton, and a few seconds later he entered the room.

Black fuzzy hair, dark brown jacket, leather briefcase, fancy trousers. Trench coat over his arm. Even as Dean perceived the appearance, Milton was seen from the front. Dean almost fell off his chair.

What the hell? No friggin‘ way.

That was Cas.

Cas, who had told him he was a writer, used a pseudonym to write books. Those were the kind of books he wrote? What? He had to imagine things, right? That couldn’t really be Cas, this dorky and awesome guy he had started to become friends with. This intense guy with whom he could talk so openly.

Cas was also the man who had written this extraordinary book. With whose words Dean had practically fallen in love with.

This was so absurd – and also good, in a way. Suddenly, much about Cas made more sense to him. The way he talked, the way he explained things – yeah, Dean could see him writing such an emotional, heart-wrenching and meaningful book.

Oh, damn.

Cas walked with confident steps to the small stage and took a seat on the chair. Immediately, the loud conversations gave way to quiet whispers until the voices finally fell silent altogether. Dean let his gaze wander through the audience, noticing immediately that everyone present was eagerly anticipating the reading.

So far, Cas hadn’t said a word, but he didn’t seem nervous at all, was rather radiating an absolute tranquility. He smiled broadly and thanked everyone warmly for coming. Oh, he looked stunning. Dean didn’t know what it was, but seeing Cas so in his element touched him.

After a brief introduction, he announced he would read four passages. Two parts from "Sun-Kissed" and two passages from his upcoming book, which had the working title "Heart’s Symphony“.

Symphony? Was the universe kidding him?

Why was his life like this? Why would his favorite author write a book that reminded him of Angel and their connection immediately? His heart clenched in his chest and he yearned for him so much that he thought about escaping this ordeal. But that was stupid. Today, Angel was busy with packing and appointments, anyway.

Dean contorted his face in agony as he thought about Angel being gone for two weeks starting the day after tomorrow. Abroad. Although he had assured him he would not be dwelling in the wilderness - what a reassurance - Dean felt as if the thousands of miles would only intensify his longing. They had already agreed that after this trip, they would finally get their meeting on.

They hadn’t talked about details, but by now their messages were so intimate and open and full that there was no doubt in Dean’s mind that they had to meet in real life. Finally. He couldn’t stand this state of affairs anymore. That’s how much he pined for Angel. He wanted to hear his voice, see his gestures, when Angel revealed to him all the wonderful thoughts and told all the amusing and interesting anecdotes.

Shaking his head, Dean returned to the moment.

The entire event was estimated to take two to three hours, and Cas was already hinting at needing at least an hour and a half to read. Dean thought of how Cas had so often managed to win him over in conversation. He had never doubted that he was a good teacher. And yet, here in the bookstore, he presented a different sight. He looked happy, obviously completely in his element.

Although there was already a book on the table, he took his own copy out of his briefcase. Dean had to grin when he saw how worn it was and how many slips were sticking out of the book’s pages. That was so like him. Dean’s heart warmed.

Seeing him up there somehow filled him with pride. Without further ado, Cas opened the book to the very beginning. Pausing for a moment longer, he announced "Sun-Kissed“ and read.

Then he recited the first excerpt, and Dean listened spellbound to his words. Immediately he found himself in the plot he had followed so many times by now. By the second excerpt, he was getting so emotional again.

It wasn’t every day that the guy who had written the book that had helped him come out sat right in front of him and read said book aloud. His mind spun. Once again, a lot was happening inside him. His mind wouldn’t rest, wouldn’t even let him think about all that was happening to him.

When Cas ended, he looked up only briefly and smiled sheepishly. Friggin‘ adorable, Dean thought and shook his head. He still couldn’t believe Emmanuel Milton and Cas were the same person.

Cas cleared his throat.

"Now I want to read two passages out of my upcoming work. One passage is relatively in the beginning, the other comes from a later chapter. I started writing this book a few months ago, but I rewrote most parts of it. I like this version better, since it’s more raw and honest, and I hope you will enjoy it. I will dedicate this work to my muse who inspires me every day and lets my mind and heart fly. The book will be published in summer.“

Dean furrowed his forehead. He was so interested in the reasons why Emmanuel – no Cas – had rewritten the entire thing even if it had been only a few chapters back then, and he was still working on the work at the moment. Had it something to do with the man he had met? Probably.

Dean grinned. Oh, Cas was so smitten with this guy – his muse. Unbelievable.

" _Why didn’t it work? For the umpteenth time, Luca typed the reservation into the system with his right hand, while he used his other hand to alternately turn the pages next to him or toss them into the wastebasket. Although he loved his job and this hotel, this was not the first time the technical equipment frustrated him._

_It was time to tackle a renewal of his infrastructure. This included not only the somewhat aging reception desk, but also the rooms could use a renewal or two. New televisions, for example. It wasn’t the first time he had speculated about this, but he was beginning to realize that he couldn’t put off the subject forever._

_Functioning Wi-Fi on the third floor would also be desirable in the implementation of this project, then he could rent out the rooms again more expensively. Until now, he always gave these rooms to people who liked to stay in an upscale hotel, but apparently had to save for a long time for such a trip. It was about time._

_Hissing, he ventured the next attempt, scribbling a few notes on the paper beside him with his other hand. Brooding all night over plans for the upcoming congress that was to be held here was now taking its revenge. In lack of sleep and a certain irritability._

_"Ya know, I could also just grab you by your mismatched tie, pull you close to me and kiss you so thoroughly your hair needs a second license 'cause it looks so forbidden.“_

_Irritated, Luca looked up, and his heart skipped a beat. In front of him stood the most gorgeous man he’d ever set eyes on. He was beautiful, in every nuance._

_The shirt emphasized his broad shoulders, the dark gray cargo pants complimented his legs. His body was nothing in comparison with his face, however. Downright perfect features._

_Nevertheless, Luca couldn’t concentrate on his face, either, because the man’s eyes were otherworldly. His green eyes caught his gaze and captivated him on the spot, not wanting him to look away. Luca looked into these eyes, really looked and couldn’t look away anymore._

_So much expression, so many emotions, so many notes unfolded right in front of him, and on an enchanting segue, they slid into his soul._

_Luca stared, he knew he was staring, yet he couldn’t avert his eyes._

_These stunning green eyes sent him into a turmoil, into a summer thunderstorm that wrapped its arms around him and caressed him tenderly._

_He didn’t just see green. He felt transported into the middle of a thick forest. In fact, it was like he flew through high and mighty trees. From tree to tree. Flying, floating, flying. Until he remained on the biggest tree with the most variety. While standing above he saw this mass of green which the crowns graced with golden sprinkles from the sun._

_Luca’s body tingled when these green eyes also showed him a spring in the middle of untouched wilderness. The original beauty. He felt calm and seen._

_Oh._

_Finally, Luca massaged his temples, trying to find balance again. What had just happened? He couldn’t just stare at a stranger for an entire minute. To be fair, the man had made no try to look away, had actually started their eye-contact. It was as if he wanted to get lost into him as much as he did._

_Luca put on his professional face, reminding himself where he was. He was in his hotel, at the reception. And this man had just insinuated bending him over the counter and making out with him. A remark which was blunt and uncommon in this scenery._

_"Excuse me?“ he blurted out._

_"Seriously? That’s the line that got your attention? I’ve been talking to you for the last five minutes or so. Swooning over the lovely furniture, commenting on the nice-smelling flowers in the lobby, talking about the friendly people everywhere, basically moaning over the fantastic music here and complimenting your smile and your profile like they belong on one of the well-known paintings. And that stupid line is what gets you to listen? Wow, now I’ve experienced everything.“_

_The man huffed, and folded his arms in front of his chest. Luca was too dumbstruck to answer since the man continued staring at him._

_His gaze was the most intense Luca had seen in his entire life. It was an expression loaded with curiosity, mixed with adventure and depth and promise. Promise of what?_

_Not only that, he grinned at him so mischievously, so openly, and with such playfulness that Luca wondered if he had just been transported to an alternate universe where open flirting was some sort of popular sport. A deep rumble escaped Luca, and he narrowed his eyes, desperately wanting to figure out what the heck was going on here._

_Meanwhile, his counterpart only seemed to feel more incited by the silence and their eyefucking. Without the grin ever leaving his face, the man licked his way too luscious lips and shook his head. To whatever._

_"Well, not everything, obviously. For example, I still gotta take my friggin‘ Hawaiian shirt, beer, my old Walkman and the goddamn list. Rent the most exciting boat I can find, jump and dive into the ocean so deeply as if I want to fuck it.“_

_Okay. This man was the most absurd and exciting person he had ever met. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a filter because his whole demeanor radiated sophistication. Rather, he didn’t give a damn about what he said or how it might come across, and Luca couldn’t help but admire him for it._

_Slowly, Luca regained his composure. In the meantime, he had loosened his glued gaze from the deep eyes, and he perceived the rest of the surroundings more clearly again. Just as he usually did. He was the host, he should not be so out of touch, and certainly not be taken in by a stranger, as attractive, quick-witted and mesmerizing as he might be._

_"Are you trying to make fun of me?“ Luca asked, in an attempt to regain his composure._

_The stranger grinned and raised one eyebrow. "Well, I was trying to check in. Ya know. Since this is a hotel. And I’m standing at the reception with my luggage from which two thirds are unnerving to carry, yet necessary to bring along.“_

_He grinned broadly, casually leaning his upper body over the counter. When had the man come so close? Did he not know the concept of personal space? And why did he not feel affronted, but rather thrilled? Why did he lean closer to this confident, rambling man?_

_"I see,“ Luca mumbled, scribbling nonsense on his paper. He was flustered, he knew he was. And it was unfair that he met this stunning man here, of all places. "Your name?“_

_"Hugh Bailey.“ Luca paused in his movement, and jerked his head up._

_"As in Hugh Bailey the scientist?“ Luca could not believe it. Was this man related to the brilliant scientist or was the similarity of names pure coincidence?_

_"Yeah.“ Mr. Bailey replied and pursed his lips. Obviously, he was annoyed now – but why?_

_"You’re working for the pharmaceutical company.“_

_"Pal, my name is literally the deal. I am the founder, ya know.“_

_Now Luca’s jaw dropped. "I did expect you to be-“_

_"Older?“_

_"No. Less charming, fascinating and amusing. I figured you would be an asshole, lacking skills in civil behavior.“_

_"Uh-huh. Buddy, the way I see it you’re the one who needs lessons in social skills. Seem to be a bit rusty if ya ask me.“_

_"Why? I was merely stating the obvious. I don’t see the problem in that,“ Luca continued, while checking the reservation and at the same time rummaging in the drawer for the check-in form._

_"You’re kinda grumpy. But also such a dork,“ Mr. Bailey - Hugh - said with a smile. The smile was open and kind, and Luca felt like his heart would jump out of his chest._

_"I’ve been told,“ Luca muttered._

_"Hey, I’ve never said that was a bad thing. You’re so devastating and handsome I wanted to ask you out immediately.“_

_"So it was a flirtation?“ Mr. Bailey liked men as well. That was information he had to process. In public, Mr. Bailey had been seen with many women, or so Luca had been informed. He did not watch TV and only read the magazines nobody was interested in. So he hadn’t seen an image of Mr. Bailey so far._

_"Well yeah. I’ve been flirting with you since minute numero uno. Thanks for noticing.“ Mr. Bailey rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. The sound sounded dirtier than it should’ve in this context._

_Luca smiled genuinely at the man now. "I encourage it.“_

_"Ya do, huh? Was beginning to think we’re not on the same page here. Glad to know I was wrong. Which doesn’t happen too often.“ Hugh looked at his name badge and scanned his face afterwards. "Luca. Pretty name. Fits the general demeanor.“_

_He laughed lustily, and Luca knew, understood with his entire existence that there was no laugh in this world that could stir him up like this. This could be the most frightening or wonderful observation he had ever made._

_This was a guest. He should wish him a pleasant stay._

_"I wish you unforgettable weeks, Mr. Bailey. Please don’t hesitate to ask for advice regarding leisure activities. We also have a spa and a gym.“ He smiled and handed Mr. Bailey two flyers._

_"I’m really trying to enjoy this one vacation. Escaping for a while. Wandering. Searching for the right path. Forgetting about the past. It sounds enjoyable but it’s tough for the overflowing mind.“_

_"I understand.“_

_"Nah, I don’t think you do.“ Now Mr. Bailey’s features hardened, and he gritted his teeth. Mr. Bailey grabbed the keycard, nodded at him and vanished. And Luca knew he would never be the same again._

_What was Hugh running from?_ "

Holy shit. Emmanuel, no _Cas_ , really wanted to shatter him again, didn’t he? That had been intense, to say the least. The setting, the dialogue, the scene’s build-up, the characters. He definitely wanted to know more. Also, this Hugh had hit a bit too close to home. He rambled as much as he tended to do, seemed to carry a lot of weight on his shoulders.

Cas looked up again and somehow their eyes met. He tilted his head the way he always did, then he smiled and nodded at him. That was nice. They looked at each other for a few more seconds before Cas studied the pages in front of him again, apparently searching for the next part he wanted to read.

Meanwhile, Dean’s mind also provided him with more etymology thoughts and name origins. Hugh - really? It meant "mind" or "intellect". He thought about Angel who always mentioned how much he liked his apparently beautiful mind, and that he was fascinated by his thoughts. And Luca, which meant "bringer of light“. He thought about Angel more acutely, he thought about the happiness and all the good things that getting to know him had meant for him, so far.

He grabbed his phone and started typing a quick message to Angel. " _Never gonna grasp how wonderful and full of light you are. Ya know, you’re like my personal sunshine, and I swear I will send all the smiles you paint on my mouth back to you with my kisses. I swear. Till later then, Angel._ “

Yeah, okay, he was getting more cheesy with every day, but who the hell would give a damn, right? He was happy for a change, and he could have this. Therefore, it didn’t make the slightest sense to suppress his feelings. Fuck, with all these thoughts about Angel he had almost missed the second part. Stupid, stupid.

He noticed that Cas was announcing the next scene and explained that he would read it in a much abbreviated version so as not to preempt certain effects from the actual perusal.

God, he needed this book, he knew he would lose himself in there. He realized he was trembling with joy since he really enjoyed Cas reading the second part. His gravelly voice which sounded more velvety today transported each word with so much emotion and sincerity that Dean felt goosebumps all over his body.

Oh, right, he was supposed to listen to the plot.

" _Apparently Hugh was in a flirting mood again today which gave Luca a pleasant tingle. Hugh really was an unusual man. So complex._

_One moment Luca heard him heatedly discussing business on the phone, sounding so articulate that there was no doubt whatsoever about his high intelligence. The next moment he sat sulking at the bar, brooding and drinking, not saying a word. Dwelling in the past, his regrets and his many thoughts. Like three days ago._

_Then again, Hugh flirted heavily with him. Often enough, they talked so profoundly. And then there were the moments when Hugh simply looked at him, looked and told him everything without actually enunciating it. Luca realized he wanted to know more about him._

_After a short hesitation, Luca took a seat next to Hugh. Hugh put his hands on the keys and seemed to be musing. For a moment Hugh paused, then turned to the side. "This is one of my own, lemme know what you think.“_

_Hugh began to play on the piano, a melancholy and beautiful melody. Although Hugh called himself a sinful man, Luca had never heard a more divine and wholesome tune._

_Sounds buzzed in the air, calling for him. Longing, silent cries and magic. All this penetrated his pores and wanted to go deep into his soul. Yet, the sounds didn’t have to make their way because they were already inside him. They were part of him._

_All the sweet sounds slid into him and sprang from him at the same time, were exactly what he felt and then again wanted to experience for the first time, and Luca didn’t know, didn’t understand, didn’t grasp how that was possible._

_Hugh played as if he did nothing else all day. As if his beautiful fingers were always bringing his soul to the outside world, bedding the world in beauty, wrapping it more and more in a magical silk from note to note._

_The sounds triggered so much in him that his breath caught, while at the same time his entire body trembled. The longer Hugh played, the more the song pulled Luca in Hugh's direction. As if by itself, he moved closer to the other until their knees touched._

_Although Hugh didn’t take his fingers off the keys for a second, Luca noticed a brief stirring, a shiver that went through Hugh’s body and created an equal shiver in him._

_As Hugh continued to perform his magic, he moved around on the bench, touching Luca’s leg even more intensely, caressing it._

_Again and again Hugh moved back and forth, changing position with it, until Luca realized that this was happening because Hugh was completely absorbed in his music. With his whole being._

_Then Hugh sang - and how he could sing. Was he an ethereal miracle?_

_It was a song about a longing, the search for something, apparently a pure love._

_He sang with so much passion, every word went through Luca’s marrow. At that moment he wished never to sit anywhere else but here._

_Leg to leg, heart to heart with this fascinating stranger while sinking into the symphony of emotion, deep, oh so deep, even deeper than into the Pacific Ocean. Deep into one’s own and each other’s soul._ “

Crap. Tears were dwelling in his eyes, little traitors. More and more tears ran down his cheeks, making him sniffle until he full-on sobbed. In this bookstore. Fantastic. At the same time, his heart was wrapped in carefully woven threads of happiness.

How did Emmanuel/Cas do this? How could Cas put into words what was going on inside him? First with "Sun-Kissed" which had stirred him up in his twenties. So much that he had changed his entire perspective on himself - or rather learned to accept himself. Finally.

Now Dean felt even more touched than by "Sun-Kissed“ because he could draw so many connections to Angel and him. It was insane and simultaneously so good. He really needed to talk about that stuff with Cas some day, it would be so interesting to learn more about his thought and writing process.

Was the fact Cas wrote this book the reason he felt so comfortable with Cas since the very beginning? The reason he felt like he knew him?

A little voice in his mind told him that it was important that he knew now. That Cas wrote his favorite romance novel. That it mattered for him personally.

Why was it important that Dean knew? Why? Right now, the surrounding noise hindered him from thinking further.

Dean didn’t know if he should get an autograph. This was stupid. He knew Cas, he didn’t need to get into this fan frenzy. Ah, screw this, he wanted to say hello, after all. And so he joined the line that had formed in front of the table where Cas sat with books, busily signing autographs and making small talk.

He was good at it, superb even. When it was finally his turn, he picked up his book and came to stand in front of Cas, grinning.

"Howdy stranger,“ he whispered and winked. Cas apparently tried to suppress a laugh, but totally failed.

"Hello,“ he said and finally smiled at him. Unprompted, he took Dean’s book and signed it.

"I was so intrigued,“ Dean admitted, while Cas was still busy with his book. How long could it take to sign it?

Finally, Cas looked up again, wearing a warm smile on his lips.

"I’m glad. Thank you for stepping by and for your support.“ That was obviously a standard phrase he gave every fan at the end, but his look said something else. Gratitude, yes, but also - emotion? Huh.

Dean opened the book to take a quick look at the signature. Instead, he found an entire paragraph.

" _I witnessed your reactions. I am delighted my work means so much to you. That it apparently helps and strengthens you. That touches my heart. Thank you. You’re brave, and you have every right to be. Also, I figured we could drop our attempt to put our encounters under mere coincidence. Here is my phone number. Castiel._ “

Castiel? His full name was Castiel. Why the hell had Dean never thought about the fact that Cas wasn’t his full name since their encounter at the club? Was he completely stupid? And why was that the only thing his brain wanted to and could think about right now? What was much more interesting was that Cas was genuinely interested in deepening their friendship. That was pretty damn good.

Castiel - honestly. That was the most exotic yet interesting name he’d heard in a long time. In fact, he had never heard of anyone with that name before. Castiel. Dean grinned. An unusual name for an unusual guy. Why not?

He didn’t know what to do. The official part of the event was coming to an end, but he wanted to enjoy this feeling a little longer. He felt good. Excellent. And so he did something he was good at - he sought out conversation with like-minded people. It was so easy to talk to others because they were all here for the same reason. Cas’s fans were all so open and not at all aloof or fake. It felt good to talk to normal people. Time flew by and Dean sank into the conversations.

Eventually, though, the room had more or less emptied. Individuals were still browsing through the books, somewhere in the back of the book store. Dean had sat down on one of the chairs and was thinking. About all the emotions, the thoughts, the memories. He reflected and reflected, until he perceived Cas’s distinctive voice, not far from him at all.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me. I was surprised you came.“

"You invited us, son,“ a male voice replied.

"Yes, I did. I always do, yet you have never shown until today.“

"We are not here to fight,“ said a female voice. Were those Cas’s parents? He had mentioned a few times that their relationship, while basically good, was often strained. Why, Dean didn’t know. He shouldn’t eavesdrop, he really shouldn’t, on the other hand his curiosity took over. A sideglance told him that there was indeed a woman and a middle-aged man standing there, both very smartly dressed. Just at the moment he looked to the side, Cas caught his gaze. Of course.

Dean made an apologetic gesture towards Cas because he felt very embarrassed. It would be good if he gained distance from this scene, he should let the family have their privacy. While he was still debating how to get up from the abandoned chairs unnoticed and leave as quickly as possible, he noticed Cas right next to him. He motioned for him to come along, and okay, now that was a little weird.

They stopped in front of his parents. Cas looked at his parents, looked at him and smiled slightly. Cas’s father wore an expensive suit with equally expensive patent leather shoes and exuded confidence. His mother wore a pantsuit, had her hair tied in a bun, and wore a necklace around her neck. A rosary. Faithful people. Dean quickly interrupted his muster because Cas began to speak.

"Mom, dad, I want you to meet someone. This is Dean. A good friend.“ Dean, still somewhat perplexed by Cas’s openness, shook hands with Cas’s parents one by one and introduced himself. He did not miss the look with which Cas’s mother regarded him.

Oookay. What was going on here?

"He does look masculine, and he has a certain charisma. I see why people would be appealed by him. Still, he seems to be a simple man. Maybe he isn’t the right acquaintance for you.“

Okay. Damn rude. Not only did this lady talk about him as if he wasn’t present, no, she also insulted him immediately. Wow. That was just terrific. Such behavior made him angry, not only because he was familiar with it, but also because it was so illogical.

Dean wanted to say something, Cas also looked like he was on the verge to say something, but he shut his mouth again. What was going on here? The atmosphere was so loaded and tense.

Cas looked so forlorn and even his lips were trembling. Oh no, no, no, he shouldn’t cry at his own so very terrific reading, actually he wasn’t supposed to cry at all. Where it came from, Dean couldn’t tell, but he felt the instinct to protect Cas.

"Son, is this a particular close friend? Somebody who would not only like to lead conversations with you?“ his mother asked, and Dean snorted at this idiotic choice of words.

Had she just seriously asked her son in a roundabout way if he fucked him? She had some nerve. They were in the middle of a bookstore, where her son had just read some pretty intense scenes between men. And she still asked this as if being attracted to guys was some invention by aliens. Oh God, this situation was so absurd, so unbelievably absurd, that he had to laugh out loud. Immediately all eyes landed on him.

Cas shook his head silently, but Dean was in peak form. He understood many things better now. Cas’s hints about family problems, and he felt reminded of his own family, though not in quite such a fucked up way. His parents at least seemed like normal people, not abusive assholes. That was good, Dean was glad it was this way.

Dean grinned widely and purred. Dammit, now he couldn’t back away anymore.  
"Oh Lady, we’re not rushing this stuff. The fornication’s only step 9 on our journey of desire, bliss and fulfillment. I can wait. There’s much else to do. The tension makes everything so much better. More intense, if ya know what I mean. Oh, it gets my body all tingly. Can you imagine? In fact, we wanted to go grab a coffee, didn’t we, honey?“ He looked at Cas, whose expression swung from horrified to amused in milliseconds.

"You’re absolutely right. I almost forgot. Mom, dad. It was wonderful to see you today. We should fix our date for dinner, soon. I will come by after the book tour, alright?“

Cas’s parents just nodded, but a mixture of horror, fascination and confusion showed on their faces. It was as if his announcement had pulled the rug out from under them. They shook Dean’s hand again, said goodbye to Cas with a few words, and slowly left the scene.

"Was that necessary?“ Cas asked, giving Dean a stern look.  
"Are you kidding me? Your parents are so- they shouldn’t judge you this way. This was your reading. You read from a gay novel, and they still had this dismissive attitude towards you. Not exactly supportive.“

"I know this, Dean. You don’t need to remind me. I told you we maintain a complicated relationship,“ Cas hissed, whereupon Dean raised his arms.  
"Hey, that doesn’t mean you should let them talk to you this way.“ Oh, look who’s talking, he scolded himself. Peachy.

"I literally helped ya. I wanted to keep you save, all right? Plus, it was the right thing to do. By the way, I meant it. Let’s grab coffee, Mr. famous writer.“ He winked, and Cas sighed.

"You’re really something else, Dean,“ Cas muttered, but now the corner’s of his mouth turned upwards. Smooth. Cas quoted his own remark from the youth center to him.   
"Yeah. I remember. Peculiar, am I right?“  
"Exactly. That’s the word.“  
"Well. Right back at you, buddy.“

Despite the absurdities and confusion and intensity of this day, this moment gave him quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m @dean-and-the-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	23. Musings on an angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, here comes chapter 23. :)
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Dean**

**December 3, 4:04 p.m.**  
**From: AngelMuses**

_Dear rambler,_

_I’ve arrived in Edinburgh today. The flight was long, but at least I could keep myself busy with writing and reading. Also, you might be pleased to know that I was able to significantly expand my knowledge in pop culture. During the flight two movies were shown, of which I don’t know if they are absolutely necessary for my knowledge in pop culture, but at least I can show off to you now. ;-)_

_One was "The Hangover“, a comedy. I got the impression from the surrounding laughter that it is now classified as a kind of cult film of the 2000s. I have to say that the movie amused me a lot. Admittedly, some scenes and dialogues did not suit my way of communicating, as Alan and Mr. Chow in particular have an extreme way about them. This is not meant to be a complaint, I actually often had to smile and even laugh out loud at their actions._

_In general, the crazy twists on their reconstruction of the night pulled me in, and overall, I found the film very entertaining. If I may make one more personal comment: I would have really enjoyed reading one of your live blogs on this film or - my preferred option - watching the film with you._

_The second film was "The Gift“ with Keanu Reeves. While I enjoyed the premise and the atmosphere, I think I like other movies with Keanu Reeves better. You may wonder why I appear to be an expert in this matter – which I am not – but the explanation is rather simple. I watched "The Matrix" and "Constantine" the other day and was quite intrigued by his acting and the plot._

_How are you? I hope you got more sleep than I did last night, and especially more than you’ve gotten lately. The mind works better when it’s rested, but you know that, of course. I hope you have fun and success in your meeting with your best friend. I don’t think there is any danger here. Her partner will like you right away. And I think it won’t be different the other way around. That said, I can see why this encounter has you in turmoil._

_Speaking of turmoil, it makes me angry that your father keeps making unwanted phone calls or writing you messages. While rationally I understand that this is his way of controlling you (which is not a good thing, guaranteed), I could equally scream because, on the other hand, he has so often just disappeared from your life. But I don’t want to upset you further. It’s just that your brother’s surgery makes me just as nervous, and I think you know that I sincerely wish that the course will be good._

_It is still afternoon in the US, but here it is rather late. I will go right to bed, and hopefully dream of you. The hotel is very nice, lets me rest. I think as a first stopover I am very lucky here._

_Tomorrow, I will visit the town of Aberfoyle. I don’t have an appointment there, but I am certain I will find more inspiration and tranquility. Many years ago, a trip through Scotland led me there. I hiked up Doon Hill, an extinct volcano. I don’t know if you know the work "The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies“ by Robert Kirk. The man was a reverend who was very focused on these subjects._

_Supposedly he was murdered by ghosts on this very hill in the 17th century. Anyway, the reverend’s body was found at the top of the hill - and he was wearing only his sleeping robe. According to the legend, an old pine tree represents the path to a fairy kingdom, and the reverend’s soul is said to live there._

_I don’t know why, but just thinking about the possibilities gets me thinking even more. Although I was exposed to it at the time through my religious schooling, I am still glad to have discovered such a magical place through it. The thought that perhaps somewhere fairies dance around and do their merry mischief is still very exhilarating for me._

_Sending you kisses across the oceans._

_Your AngelMuses_

**December 7, 1:51 a.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_Sweet Angel,_  
_I was so happy to read your message. Again, I’m a little stressed out right now, but I know you’re the same. To be honest, it sucks that we currently can’t write as much as usual._

_It’s my fault, too, working too much again, probably so I don’t have to think so much. Or rather, so I don’t have to ruminate so much about these negative things in my head. It’s really a bit much sometimes, but hey, that’s not supposed to be the main part of this message right now._

_Have been thinking about what you wrote me about your trip abroad. This trip really seems like a great opportunity for you. Maybe when you get a chance, you’ll tell me in more detail about what you’re doing or have done there?_

_I'm of course very (very, very, very) curious. And yes, you mentioned that with this info it would be too easy to find out your identity, but well - somehow I want to. :-) You know you can tell me anything. Your secrets are safe with me. Really. You don’t have to fear anything. This also applies to topics that you might normally suffer from. I would never do anything that could harm you or cause you pain._

_Sorry, don’t mean to come across as pushy. Shit._

_Anyway, I’m thrilled that everything went well. If you make it, send some pics. Whereby - you are not so with the technology. Hope you brought a camera since you don’t use a smartphone? Am kinda excited for your different steps._

_For a few days I’ve been somehow off track. Dunno if that’s the right expression, on the other hand - yes it is. That’s exactly what it means._

_You know when you’re so blown away by impressions and sensations that you can’t tell what’s coincidence and what’s irrevocably connected? When you make connections that should be connections and again don’t fit together? Because you think that there are just too many factors working together and that it’s all just too good to be true. And on the other hand there are things that just upset you so much that you don’t know where your head is anymore._

_Oh fuck, I’m a mess right now. Yeah, I know I’m not making a lot of sense. This is again an example for my mind, which you on the other hand seem to be very fond of. ;-)_

_I’m very proud of you. So many movies to add to your repertoire now. Nice. Oh, and funny coincidence: I rambled about "Constantine" a few days ago. I liked "The Gift" the first time I watched it, but yeah, I agree, Keanu Reeves does have fantastic movies and some movies which are not my cup of tea. You might like "Speed". Well, I do._

_Although I’m not sure I wanna encourage your crush on the guy too much, you should definitely watch that one. Maybe we watch it simultaneously once you’re back? OR we watch it together in person?_

_Now that I think about it I would prefer other movies for our first real movie night, though. Have to make a list for that occasion. ;-) However, I feel a twinge of jealousy. A stupid plane shouldn’t make you watch movies – I should. Maybe it’s time for my next suggestions, huh?_

_By now I’ve given you plenty of recs along the way, but hey, that was the whole point. And I’m looking forward to showing you movies when you’re sitting right next to me. Scratch that. When you’re lying with your fuzzy head on my lap or in my arm - or vice versa. :-)_

_As always, thank you for your encouraging and honest words regarding my family situation. But you’re right, currently this is perhaps not the best topic. Especially since I know you are struggling with one thing or another yourself. Say, Hannah (still radio silence, huh? Fuck.), homophobic comments of some contemporaries and the thing with your mum._

_Ya know, I met a woman the other day which gave me an idea of how your mom could be. And yeah, I think I understood better what you meant by her protective and simultaneously annoying behavior. Mmm. Parents can be tough. I’m glad your parents actually gave you a good childhood, though. You deserve all the goodness, Angel. (Yes, I know I’m practically quoting you here, but it’s also the truth for you. :-))_

_Thanks for the tale you told me. I really enjoyed it. :-) Oh, talking about folklore. I actually learned new word origins the other day. For example, we’ve been talking about our nightmares, yeah? The origin’s pretty vivid. The part "mare“ of the word comes from Old English “mære“ (rough meaning: night-goblin or incubus), probably developed from the Germanic word “marōn” (“goblin“). It was believed that an evil spirit or goblin sat on the chest of the sleeping person, giving them bad dreams._

_Moreover, the folklore talks about these spirits riding horses and chasing the sleeping person. This was supposed to be one of the reasons why people waking from a nightmare are so exhausted. I mean, I frigging hate nightmares, don’t get me wrong, and I know you do, too. But it’s kinda comforting to think about these tales from the past. Outer aspects are responsible for the nightmare, that it’s not our fault, our weakness, we experience them so often. Mmm, I dunno, maybe I’m just trying to push these factors away when it’s not quite possible, in reality._

_By the way, I’m certain you are aware, but angel originally goes back to Greek "angelos". Meaning: messenger. That refers to God, of course, but it also fits you. I mean, you are my personal messenger. Gifting me with messages that include all your awesome insights and thoughts and feelings._

_In my opinion, you might also be a messenger in real life. From what you’ve told me you’re helping people. Right? In the hospital for example. You talk to sick children, provide them with messages of hope._

_And you also told me about your attempts to help other people with their coming out, about you bringing your tale – your message – to others. You are in public, therefore everything you say is out in the open, in a way. It’s a message that speaks to many people. That inspires them. That makes them reflect on themselves and their lives. Am I getting this right?_

_Anyway, I really like that your username fits your personality so well. That was just another proof for me, in addition to your captivating angelic nature. :-)_

_Oh, you really shouldn’t write me about going to bed all the time. I mean, obviously I’m kidding – you can always tell me. Dammit, the yearning really doesn’t get better with this. Yeah, but what the hell. Let’s at least make it sweet yearning, yeah? Just. Mmm. Ya know what I like? Spooning. ;-)_

_So next time you go to sleep I want you to imagine me behind you, embracing you tenderly and protecting you from the world outside. Just giving you the same amount of warmth and belonging you give me every day. Obviously, caressing is included in this scenario. Duh. But you have a rather spectacular mind of your own, mm? Of course, I could get more into details, but I dunno if that’s advisable. :-)_

_Night, sweetheart. I wish you sweet dreams as always. No nightmares. Side note: When I write with you right before going to bed, my nightmares are never as bad as they used to be. Sometimes, they completely vanish. :-)_

_RambleOn_

**December 8, 7:29 a.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_I'm in the hospital right now. My dad didn’t show (yet). Surgery went well!!! No complications. Waiting for him to wake up. :-) Thanks for always making me feel better. Thanks for seeing and understanding me._

**December 9, 12:37 p.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_So, Paris. Did I remember that correctly from your message the other day? Angel, you gotta send me pictures. Or at least let somebody else take some, so you can give me an impression as soon as you’re back. Am feeling anxious today. Not because of my dad or my brother for a change. Just life. Ya know that feeling? I miss you. You confuse me and stir me up in the best way._

**December 10, 9:44 p.m.**  
**From: AngelMuses**

_Hello sweet rambler,_  
_I am so happy that I could finally read your messages. And I am so, so relieved and delighted that the surgery was successful. This is a miracle. :-)_

_On the road I had no wifi or was not able to activate it - the last hotel had none at all. Hard to imagine, but now I find the time to write to you._

_You remembered correctly for I am in Paris. Yesterday my business associate and I did a bit of sightseeing. Usual steps like the Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe. In the late afternoon I discovered the Clos Montmartre vineyard during a walk. More or less by chance. I had another appointment nearby, and my conversation partner mentioned the vineyard. As a nature lover, I had no choice but to go straight to it. It was beautiful._

_Being among the vines, surrounded by nature, reminded me of home. Even though my home is in a residential neighborhood, I still have the greenery right outside my door, even when I look out my balcony. Admittedly, it’s not as impressive as your cottage, which is actually quite pristine, but I still really enjoy this quiet zone. That’s why I was so pleased with this find yesterday._

_I know nothing about whether the wines of this winery are good, but I saw that the proceeds are for charity and benefit for example local artists. So I bought a wine, hoping that maybe I can help an artist do more of what they love._

_I am in the luxury position of being able to pursue my passion at work, and I am always looking for opportunities to help others do that. I also bought another really fine wine at a wine shop near the Palais Royal. A unique rosé whose reputation probably precedes it. I promise you that I will not open it until you are present. :-)_

_I wandered through Paris’s streets today. Originally, I looked for a restaurant, but I found a lively square where I felt reminded of leisure and freedom. Do you know the song "Free Fallin'" by Tom Petty? I have many associations to that song now, and I hummed it while I strolled there._

_I am glad about what you wrote. I know I can trust you, and I do. More than anyone else, I’ve found. And I definitely want to talk to you about everything, including the things I bury deep inside. Thank you so much for your movie recommendation, too. I can assure you that I only found pleasure in his acting, nothing else. The only real crush I have is on you. And it’s probably no secret that I’m no longer talking about a simple crush here, but about serious, deep feelings._

_Most of all I enjoyed, as I often do, your explanations of etymology, I really sunk into it. Thank you, as your thoughts on this have (as always) broadened my horizons and made me smile. Once again proving that the throne of the beautiful rambler will forever be yours. :-)_

_I know what you mean with the yearning. And I will imagine exactly what you described. But certainly in the enhanced version that you have now censored here. :-)_

_Side note: I attached some pictures. I took them myself. With my retro camera, yes, but I hope you appreciate the effort. Maybe my photography equipment needs an update like my TV. :-) But I presume you would want to exchange my laptop first. While I think it fits my rather old desk in terms of age ;-), I would like a laptop that isn’t louder than my wonderful stereo (at least that’s what it feels like). You see, I need some advice from my favorite teacher again._

_Yours,_  
_AngelMuses_

****

_December 16_

Frustrated, Dean kicked off his blanket. With a sigh, he put the book down on the table and stared at the ceiling. Today was his day off, he had finally allowed himself a day of vacation, with the goal of relaxing and pursuing activities that were good for him. After a joyride with Baby, he had gone jogging, which had properly exhausted him.

Then, he had gone downtown, bought 10 new books, both non-fiction and fiction, because reading was still the one thing he could never get enough of. And he still loved reading, he really did. And yet. Since the reading of Emmanuel Milton, or rather Cas, nothing had been the same. The words he had heard had stirred him up too much, reminded him too much of what he had experienced with Angel and felt for him in the meantime.

It was insane that Cas could portray these emotions and associations so perfectly. So precise and stirring, as if Dean had written them himself. This statement and the fact that Cas was the author of his damn favorite romance was on Dean’s mind all the time, at least it was always, always in the back of his mind.

It was also peculiar that Cas was also out of town, and that he seemed to be abroad when Dean could believe Gabriel’s explanations from the day before. These coincidences were getting out of hand.

At some point it had gotten to the point where his thoughts in everyday life had become so mixed up with his thoughts while writing with Angel that such connections had just slipped out without Angel being able to do much with them. It was just all too much, too whimsical.

Until now, he hadn’t told anyone about how much this reading had awakened in him, because anyone would have told him that it was just a coincidence. That authors just had a talent for putting their readers‘ feelings on paper, for creating worlds and characters that captivated and never let people go. That was the wonderful thing about art. And yet. It was like someone was indirectly typing out his life.

What didn’t make it any better was the confusion Cas caused in him. They were somehow very close, that had become even more clear to him after their evening coffee walk after the reading. But why did Cas understand him so well? And why did Dean feel so connected to him on a mental level? As if they had already shared much more than they de facto had?

When Dean talked to Cas, it was as if he was talking to someone he had known for years. He felt no reservations; the backtracking he did in his remarks came only from perceived social etiquette. He was glad that he had made a friend in Cas, that they would probably take the little road trip on December 19 together, but he was still confused. Most of all, he couldn’t dismiss the similarities to Angel.

Although Cas still attracted him, of course, he knew he would never find anyone like Angel again. On the other hand, the writing was still anonymous, and Cas was real. Cas was there, a tangible person.

In the last few days Dean had felt so many doubts, so many fears after dad’s hacking action, that he wished they would already know each other and meet in real life. Simply because something like what happened with dad wouldn’t happen again. Such a misunderstanding that only unsettled everyone and maneuvered them into emotional states.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and rose. In an hour Bobby would show up, by then he desperately needed to get his emotional chaos under control. And yet his mind was just buzzing.

Now Angel had been gone for two weeks. Two weeks in which Dean’s brain was permanently producing ideas that couldn’t be that way, that simply had to have come from the culmination of recent events. Though he wouldn’t have thought it, he missed Angel more with each passing day. He had to see him, he had to. If he had struggled with himself a while ago and had been dominated by caution and fears, now he needed certainty. Damn.

The more messages they wrote and the more intimate Angel’s words became, the more all their correspondence stirred Dean up. His head and heart no longer worked together, and every thought increasingly confused him. Ever since the reading, he felt like he was going crazy. And not crazy in the sense of overwork and burnout and all the things he normally suffered from. No, he thought he could no longer trust his mind and his analytical thinking.

Dean opened the Geekatism app and scrolled through their message history for the umpteenth time. Today, they had been texting back and forth constantly again. It was just so good between them, so natural and deep and beautiful and heartwarming. And Angel was talented, which the poem had proven to him. Angel’s writing was so compelling and unique that Dean couldn’t help but feel reminded of Cas’s way of writing.

Dean also liked that both Angel and Cas cherished not only books, but also music so damn much, that both men had these high-quality stereos with an outstanding sound. Dean still remembered the sound of "I'll Take Care Of You“ in Cas’s apartment after the other had saved him from the park. At moments like these, he wished there was a connection here. Between Cas and Angel. That it wasn’t a simple coincidence how much this eloquence stirred his core.

The doorbell jolted him awake, forcing him to pause his musing. As soon as Dean opened the door, Bobby handed him a huge basket of food and whatever else he was hiding in it with a "Take this“.

Presumably glad for something to do, Bobby took care of the grill on his own. In the meantime, Dean was making a salad. He carried the salad, plates and silverware outside. On the patio were his deck chair and two wicker chairs. He set everything down on the rectangular aluminum table and stepped closer to the grill.

"Looks good,“ he commented on what was happening on the grill.  
"Of course it does. I’ve been grilling for more than 30 years, kid,“ Bobby grumbled, smirking. Dean shook his head with a laugh and put an arm around Bobby’s shoulder.  
As they ate their steaks, they talked about this and that. They philosophized about cars and music and random facts as usual, Dean telling him about his plans to go back to college, which Bobby acknowledged with an open laugh. Bobby told him about a poker game that had come up privately, which he seemed to really enjoy. Overall, their conversations were casual, cordial, and not borne of as many worries as usual. Too often, Dad’s behavior, the family drama, and all the injustices had been the topic.

In the background played the song "Angel" by John Hiatt. Since Angel’s scavenger hunt with the message in the bottle he had started listening to John Hiatt quite a lot. This song really was an earworm, he noticed. And the lyrics were quite spectacular in terms of imagery. The song addressed a woman which was called angel by everyone in the past, but didn’t always get appreciated for her imperfections, for her personality the way she had deserved it. Overall, she had experienced many disappointments in her life although she always wished for something different. For a person to value her as much as an angel.

“ _Somebody just stop calling you angel_  
_Somebody just let love get up and go downtown_  
_Somebody just stop calling you angel_  
_Angel wings out in the snow and mascara running down_ “

"Speaking of which. How are your angels?“ Dean was about to launch into a reply when he stumbled over the plural in Bobby’s statement.  
"What the hell are you talking about, Bobby?“  
"Your AngelMuses,“ Bobby said, rolling his eyes. "And Castiel, obviously.“

Dean just stared at Bobby and frowned. "I’m not sure I’m following.“  
"Castiel. As you know it’s a religious name. It also refers to an angel in the bible.“

Huh. That made sense. Castiel had already talked to him about coming from a devout family and growing up with religious themes. Dean had noticed it even more in the book club, when Cas had been so obviously taken in by discussions of religion. Yes, apparently his parents had named Castiel that because they felt so connected to faith and God.

"I didn’t exactly make that connection,“ Dean admitted, at which Bobby burst out laughing.  
"Idjit. You’re the smartest guy I know, but sometimes you aren't able to see the wood for the trees. I would’ve thought you would look up your friend’s name the minute you heard it.“  
"I didn’t know it,“ Dean said through gritted teeth. "I called him Cas all the frigging time.“

Bobby stopped laughing, which elicited some indignant sounds from Dean. Great, now the person he had been closest to for years and who thought so highly of him was making fun of him. Quite, quite wonderful.

They talked until after midnight. At one point it was so cold that Dean set up several space heaters, so they wouldn’t freeze. As soon as Bobby said goodbye, Dean turned on the fireplace. He really wanted to enjoy the coziness of his living room once again, try to get some rest, even though his mind had other plans at the moment.

Instead, he did what he always did when he thought too much: he gave his brain work to do, in the form of a new task to solve. This time it was about the name Castiel in the narrower and angels in the broader sense.

And then, suddenly, he just knew. He knew everything.

Dean thought about all the coincidences, the resemblances. He thought about Angel with this black fuzzy hair, the handsome profile and Angel’s remarks that he had blue eyes and a deep voice, then the thought about Cas’s appearance and the fact he had been attracted to him the very first second they had met in the supermarket. Dean thought about Angel’s brother who seemed to be a genuine person who brought out the best in Angel, then the thought about Cas’s brother Gabriel who was exact this way.

He thought about Angel’s explanations about his apartment which had a balcony right in front of nature, then he thought about Cas’s apartment right next to the park. He thought about their many, many conversations about music, then the thought about Cas’s stereo, his taste in music, the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about songs he liked and also about the way they had found their rhythm while dancing in the club and the bar.

He thought about Angel’s way to describe and muse about books, then he thought about the nerdy literature talks he had experienced with Cas and the book club they had visited. He thought about the damn fact that Angel knew the library and probably worked in the very college where Dean had studied, then he thought about the coincidence that Cas was a teacher, duh, professor.

Next, he thought about Angel’s story about his adoption, the difficulties with his family, the tragedy with Hannah, then he thought about Cas whose faithful parents he had met and the day when he had been such a mess after book club. The very day when Angel had written Hannah again and was so sad about her short reply.

Dean thought about the prejudices and homophobia Angel had suffered from, even recently with the person who didn’t accept his boundaries, and then the thought about Cas who had also told him about homophobic employers and the woman who had started stalking him. The woman he had escaped the day they had met in the youth center. He thought about Angel who had written him a literal poem and had a specific way of writing, then he thought about Cas who was a frigging writer and also wrote his favorite book. About Cas/Emmanuel who had described their connection so perfectly. 

He thought about Angel who had comforted him on multiple occasions and understood him without words, then he thought about Cas who had seen his pain and looked right under his surface. Who had accepted him and with whom he had felt so liberated, carefree and happy - when everything around him had turned to shit.

He thought about Angel who was so peculiar, an adorable dork and whose social skills were rusty, then he thought about Cas who was so oblivious and adorable and really one of a kind, so that he had immediately liked him. Dean thought about Angel’s lack in pop culture knowledge, then he thought about Cas who was also not quite qualified on that front.

Dean thought about the immediate connection he had felt to Angel and the profundity of their correspondence, then he thought about Cas who was such an intense person and always captivated him with his demeanor and his gorgeous eyes that let him look into the other’s soul.

At last, Dean thought about the coincidence that Angel had found his message in the library and then had decided writing him. He compared it to the coincidental encounters of him and Cas which had always brought him comfort when he had needed it the most.

Dean thought about the fact he had felt drawn to Cas in the supermarket the way he had never felt before in his life. And he had developed serious feelings for Angel, he had quite literally fallen for an angel, a person who just was so otherworldly, a person who had decided to devote his existence to make people’s life on Earth better.

Coincidences happened all the time. But if the coincidences occurred more and more frequently and became a rule, then perhaps at some point one inevitably had to think about a profound bond. A connection between two seemingly different and separated worlds – the real world and the online world – which happened to be the same wonderful world.

Or was it a coincidence after all? He didn’t know anymore. He had probably gone insane. Right? Right?

There was no way he was such a lucky person. Twice. Oh, he couldn’t even differentiate those experiences anymore. He was smart, and logic told him that he was right. His mind screamed at him that he had the solution right in front of him.

But Dean couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that he considered himself an agnostic, yet his wishes, his silent prayers, had been heard. He couldn’t believe that the only ethereal thing he experienced, the only aspect he would consider heaven-like, the only thing he had ever believed in with this entire heart and mind and soul, the only thing he had put more than a little faith in, was even better than he had anticipated and dared to dream for.

He couldn’t believe that he really had met Angel through the unlikely way of handwritten notes, and also had met Cas in real life. He couldn’t believe he had found his real Angel on Earth.

Dean had grown up with a man who had reminded him of his so-called sins every single day and who despised him for this true self. He had suffered under this man almost his entire life, only to meet a man who reminded him of his talents and qualities and special character traits. A man who valued him for this true identity, for the person who he was deep inside. A man who considered him beautiful.

Maybe he was wrong, after all. Maybe he was a fool. This was just too good to be true, and Dean didn’t deserve good things.

It was funny and very peculiar. Angel had told him that good things did happen, that he deserved them.

In the middle of the night, he wrote Angel a message that he didn’t want to reflect on any longer.

**December 17, 4:23 a.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_Dear Angel,_  
_did ya know there are 273 mentions of angels in the bible? I know, I know. It’s weird I write you this since I’m not even that religious. Let’s just say it’s my contemplation time and I got curious. I’ve found some interesting articles about lore tonight and also learned a lot about etymology. And somehow I ended up reading in the bible. Sometimes my thought process is really absurd._

_I reread your poem earlier, by the way. Have printed it out and also wrote it down with a pen. And I cannot get over this beauty. Actually, I cannot get over your beautiful writing in general. Maybe you should consider becoming a professional writer. :-) :-)_

**December 17, 4:59 a.m.**  
**From: AngelMuses**

_I will be back tomorrow night (December 18), EST. Finally. The journey was so interesting, and I learned so much. I am looking forward to telling you about it in more detail. I am flattered you learned about angels due to my username. ;-) I cannot wait to tell you about my experiences of the last two weeks._

_These two weeks taught me a lot about myself. They gave me more courage and grounded me. They inspired me, and gifted me with many encounters with wonderful people. With that, I felt reminded why my professions truly are so right for me. I’ve decided to do something I was afraid of – although I wanted to do it more than anything. It is a secret almost nobody knows of. Only my family and two friends of mine. :-)_

_I wanted to tell you something about me. It will not give away my identity but I didn’t want to keep this secret from you either. I was so happy you told me about "Sun-Kissed" influencing you so much. I was the one who wrote it. :-)_

_Tomorrow my wings will fly me back to you. :-)_

_Yours,_  
_AngelMuses_

What? No. That would mean he wasn’t crazy. That would mean-. But no. That was impossible. Right?

Dean sat down, stared at the screen, giggled, cried and stared some more.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Dean took a deep breath, exhaled, stared at the screen, took another deep breath, exhaled. His throat felt very dry and he had goosebumps all over his body, at the same time he felt so incredibly hot. He touched his face. His cheeks were glowing and individual beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. It was as if he had a fever.

Apparently, he knew Angel. He knew him. Not only from his messages but for real.

His brain had not played a trick on him after all. All the confusion and agitation of the last days had not been unnecessary.

He stared, stared, stared. Then he scrolled through their messages, even more than he had done the last few days, looking for "proof“. He scanned their texts which by now he knew almost by heart, and yet came to no other conclusion. How could this be? How could his life give him so much happiness? Why was everything suddenly so good and maybe even so easy?

This was not him, this was not what he was used to from life. On the contrary. He knew only the difficult paths, the detours, the hurdles and everything that rolled over him like an avalanche or debris in a landslide.

Finally, he leaned closer to the screen. Tears ran down his cheeks. Tear after tear after tear after tear.

He closed his eyes, saw tousled black hair in front of him, the attractive profile he had studied so often on Angel’s profile. And now he saw blue eyes, Cas’s eyes, so clear and distinct, as if he never looked at anything else.

In retrospect, it had been so damn obvious.

His mouth stood open. Then he laughed again. It was a short laugh, a burst of laughter. He continued to stare at the screen. With every second that he stared at her messages, his heart beat faster and faster and faster. The last few weeks and months fell into place like pieces of the most complex puzzle.

Oh, he really was such a dumbass.

Angel. Cas. Angel. Cas. Angel. Cas. Emmanuel. Angel. Cas. Angel. Cas. His Angel.

Then he cleared his throat as if he were having a conversation in the here and now. He looked at the screen as if he were facing a person.

"Cas?“ he whispered to the screen, crying.

At first, he wanted to call Cas. Immediately. He grabbed his phone, his fingers hovered over the other’s contact for a few minutes. Right now. He could hear Angel’s voice right now. The voice he was already familiar with but would never listen to the same way again.

Everything was just too much at this moment. He still couldn’t believe what was happening here. There was still a small, tiny possibility that he was dreaming. Dean huffed. Yeah. That was so damn likely.

He stared at the damn number and the contact name – Cas – and clicked his tongue a few times. It was the easiest, yet the most terrifying thing he had ever planned doing. The mystery would be resolved. They would both now for certain. They would no longer have to hide. They could talk, they could make more plans.

Then he changed his mind. No, he couldn’t rush into anything. Maybe he’d scare him off right away. Besides, he didn’t know how to start and explain it all to him anyway. He had to see him, he had to talk to him face to face. And he would, he would. They didn’t have to plan their meeting so many days beforehand.

They didn’t have to find the perfect solution – like they were doing it now – because they had already fixed the perfect date to meet. Although Dean didn’t exactly believe in that stuff, he had to admit that it could’ve been fate, after all. The date, but also them in general.

One thing was for certain: The coincidence of meeting Angel/Cas had turned out to be the best thing that that ever happened to him.

**December 17, 9:12 a.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_Ohhhhh, Angel. :-) Life is peculiar sometimes. And so, so, so frigging fantastic. Mmm. I have a surprise for you when you’re back. :-)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He figured it out!! About damn time. ;) Our boys still have a few things to resolve, right? :) 
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	24. Believers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :) Truly, I was sooo excited to finally post the chapter where Dean figures it out. That being said, I still want to resolve certain topics in this fic. Oh, and the next chapters are rather fluffy – I think they deserve it. :) 
> 
> Since I was so thrilled about your reactions this morning, I decided to post the next chapter already. I figure you’re okay with that. ;)
> 
> This chapter has quite a few song references, but I included them for a reason. :) 
> 
> Btw: Have I mentioned how much I appreciate almost unnoticeable subtlety? Well, I do! But you won’t find it today. :)
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Castiel**

Castiel tossed and turned in bed. Sleep was out of the question at the moment, the events of the last few hours had stirred him up far too much. This was not how he had imagined his return. He just wanted to go home. See his apartment, immerse himself in familiar surroundings and breathe in a bit of home.

Instead, he lay in an uncomfortable hotel bed, pondering whether he should write Dean a text saying he wouldn’t make it in time for their appointment. His upbringing dictated that he informed a friend of the circumstances; on the other hand, Dean had explained to him at the time that the trip was not a compulsion, but that he would either show up or not.

Nevertheless, their situation was different by now, apart from the fact that Castiel wanted to accompany Dean on his road trip. He was curious.

After all, his rambler gave him comfort in his annoyed state. The other had reacted incredibly euphorically to his confession that he was Emmanuel Milton, even more happily than Castiel had imagined.

Since RambleOn’s message, Castiel could not wait for his return. What surprise did Rambler have in store for him? And why did Rambler now make it clear in almost every message that he saw a meeting virtually ahead of him? Castiel understood his anticipation, but he had the feeling that he had missed something.

Although the flight had passed without turbulence, a less pleasant surprise had awaited him at the airport. Due to heavy snowfall between the airport and his home, all roads had been closed. The only roads that were still open were so crowded, according to media reports, that a return trip could drag on for hours.

Weather forecasts had announced a significant rise in temperatures for the next day, which would quickly cause the snow to melt. However, a ride home had been impossible. The original plan had been for Gabriel to pick him up at the airport, but the new circumstances had forced Castiel to book a hotel room directly at the airport.

Unable to stand the inner turmoil any longer, he got up and turned his laptop back on. As soon as he opened the Geekatism website, a smile crept onto his lips. Registering on the platform had truly been the best decision of his life. It was listed even before his decisions to get a PhD in Classics and his coming out. Because writing Rambler filled him with happiness all the time. He already had two new messages from RambleOnIm67.

**December 19, 1:47 a.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_Angel, you're the best. You make me so damn happy. Seriously. And I’m gonna tell and show you in every way possible. I know you’re kinda annoyed at the hotel-situation right now, but I’m gonna be there with you. M’kay? I’ll save you from losing hope. ;-) I’m kidding, but also not._

**December 19, 1:49 a.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_The good thing is you’ll be home later today. I’m following the reports the whole time, and it’s looking good. I’m sorry you can’t be there in time to meet your friend. I’m sure they’ll understand. :-) And on the bright side: I still intend to surprise you, sweetheart. Soon enough. Sending you a kiss. Your mysterious stranger. :D_

Castiel smiled and felt warmth throughout his body. It was so wonderful that his rambler was in this excellent mood. His words just sparkled with confidence, inner strength and warmth and care. Probably Rambler was right. Dean would understand that something had come up for him. This time there was no unfortunate misunderstanding like with the book club back then. This time, the weather simply threw a wrench in his plans. He couldn’t imagine Dean putting their friendship on hold for that.

Finally, he wrote Dean a short message.

" _Hello, Dean. I am afraid I cannot make our appointment today. I got stuck at the airport. I don’t know if you’ve seen but some regions had some trouble with snow today. It will be better later, but I don’t know when I’ll be home. Gabriel can only pick me up in the afternoon. Rented cars and cabs will probably be difficult to catch. I am truly sorry. I hope we will meet on another occasion. Castiel._ “

After that, he turned his attention back to the conversation with RambleOnIm67. The other really had a talent for cheering him up and making him feel good, giving him a sense of having arrived.

**December 19, 2:13 a.m.**  
**From: AngelMuses**

_Confession: I can’t sleep. I know that I promised you to sleep properly, nevertheless the hotel is very shabby. Really. And the bed is uncomfortable. Anyway. You are so sweet. :-) I can’t wait to be back. Yes, I’m rather sad the encounter will not happen today, but I hope he will understand. I informed him and suggested meeting on another day. To be honest, I am really excited for your surprise. You should not tease me so much. I feel like a child on Christmas. :-)_

**December 19, 2:17 a.m.**  
**From: AngelMuses**

_You also make me happy (so, so, so happy), and I cannot wait to finally embrace you soon. I presume your touches will be as captivating as your words and that I will not get enough of them any time in the future. I think it’s probable we make our first encounter happen before Christmas, don’t you agree? I missed you even more when I was in Europe. And Christmastime should be celebrated with the most important persons. I shouldn’t exclude the most essential one then. :-)_

**December 19, 2:26 a.m.**  
**From: RambleOnIm67**

_HEY!! That’s not fair. You make me all tingly inside. :-) And YES!! We are so meeting before Christmas, you can count on that. ;-) You want me to tell you a story? Should help you sleep. I’ll give you an extra. Imagine this: I wrap my arms around you, stroking your arms and back. Before I start: Night, real-life-angel. <3_

In fact, Castiel quickly realized that Rambler’s story really put him at ease. Again and again, he realized how good Rambler was at mesmerizing and enchanting him with words and completely inspiring him to think in new ways. So he finally fell asleep with a smile on his face.

***

Less than four hours later, he was already on his feet again. With his suitcases packed and a huge appetite, he showed up at breakfast. Considering the early hour, there was only one other man present who was completely absorbed behind his newspaper.

Castiel helped himself to the rather meager buffet and also devoted himself to his reading at the table. Subliminally he perceived that the man at some point addressed the lady from the hotel about the snow situation. As Castiel had also found out, the situation was back to normal. That meant, afterward he would be back home and could review the past weeks. With a bit of melancholy, he thought about what adventures and fun experiences might have awaited him on the road trip with Dean. Speaking of.

Castiel reached for his cell phone and saw that Dean had already answered him. At half past five that morning.

" _Hey, Cas. :-) Oh man, that sucks. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for giving me a heads-up. Get home safe! And hey, the appointment doesn’t run away, right? Looking forward to meeting you soon. Dean._ “

Good. Fortunately, Dean had reacted so calmly, which Castiel interpreted extremely positively. Certainly it was ridiculous that he had gone so crazy over this simple rejection, but he didn’t want to risk losing sight of Dean as a friend. Especially now that their relationship was becoming more intimate.

When Dean had shown up at his reading and responded so enthusiastically to his work, it had touched him deeply. The encounter with his parents, where Dean had defended him, and their subsequent conversations had also meant a lot to him. That was why he felt better now.

A cheerful song from the 80s was playing in the background, which would have made him whistle immediately if he had been alone.

 _"Now I know I’ve seen the light_  
_Make it go on shining_  
_I keep on searching for the way to your heart_ “

When he heard these lines, he immediately thought of Rambler, who had long since won his heart over, and for whom he only had to fight his way back to reality. After breakfast, he picked up his luggage and checked out. Lost in thought, he walked through the lobby, which seemed uninviting due to the old wallpaper, tasteless furniture and cold light. It was time he got home.

Maybe there would be a chance for him to get a rental car after all, then Gabriel wouldn’t have to make an extra effort. At that moment, he somewhat regretted his decision to leave the car at home. Castiel shook his head, because he really shouldn’t be brooding so much. None of this was the end of the world at all; he was lucky that the flight hadn’t been affected.

He was just about to go to the hotel’s luggage storage, which he was kindly allowed to use until the afternoon, when a "Hey, stranger!“ brought him to an instant halt. What? He did know that deep and distinctive voice.

Castiel turned his head a little to the side, and indeed immediately spotted Dean grinning broadly at him. He was wearing a thick winter jacket with a dark-blue shirt peeking out from underneath. Otherwise, his appearance revealed nothing at all about what he was doing here. Only a few seconds later did Castiel manage to emerge from his astonishment.

"Dean?“ he asked, for lack of a better conversation starter.  
"Coffee?“

Only now did Castiel see that Dean was holding two coffees to go in his hands, one of which he handed to Castiel. Perplexed, Castiel accepted the coffee and sipped the hot beverage to cover his confusion. Still grinning, Dean didn’t seem to want to stop.

Castiel stared at Dean and noticed how strongly the latter’s eyes shone. They were positively sparkling, and Castiel realized that a look had never greeted him with so much warmth. Dean seemed in an even better mood than he had ever seen him, wholly liberated.

"Take a closer look, buddy,“ Dean murmured, winking. What was going on? Castiel no longer understood anything at all, but knew full well that Dean was here. At the airport. He was here, although he had long since wanted to be on the road. It was still early in the morning, but after 7 o’clock. Was Castiel just making this encounter up and what did it all mean?

Castiel shook his head and looked closer at the coffee mug. He noticed that someone, perhaps a coffee shop employee, had added something with permanent marker.

" _For Castiel. Good ol‘ coffee lets the tired mind fly._ “ Small wings had been drawn behind it, and Castiel finally let out a loud laugh at the sight of them.

"Don’t get me wrong, I am happy you are here,“ Castiel began. "But what gives me the honor?“

"Duh. I’m here to pick you up for our road trip. We had an appointment.“ Dean playfully rolled his eyes and smiled very warmly at him now. "In case you’re still up for this, of course.“ With each word, Dean’s smile grew wider, even though it should have been impossible.

"I don’t understand. You told me you would go without me. I thought-“ Castiel was speechless. That Dean took such trouble upon himself touched him.

"Dude.“ Dean snorted and ran a hand through his hair. He looked back at him, and for a moment Castiel detected something like uncertainty in his features. Was he nervous? Why?

"An- Cas, I didn’t really mean it. Obviously, I hoped that you would show, that you would genuinely enjoy accompanying me.“

The longer they stood here in the lobby and Dean fiddled with his jacket, the more Castiel’s suspicions were confirmed: Dean was definitely nervous. Had Castiel somehow conveyed to him that he found his appearance inappropriate?

Maybe he would have to show his gratitude more. He told Dean that he was delighted to see him and that he appreciated him picking him up specially at the airport.

He then learned that Dean had apparently contacted Gabriel after his text message to find out what hotel he was staying at. Dean and Gabriel really seemed to have developed a special dynamic, perhaps building a friendship as well, otherwise Gabriel would never have shared such a detail. Gabriel liked Dean, that much was certain.

The bottom line was that they were enjoying their coffee in the lobby until Dean suggested they leave. He offered to stop by Castiel’s house, so he could drop off his bags, which Castiel thought was very considerate of him.

Dean’s cautious remark about whether he was even still in the mood or condition for their trip immediately nipped Castiel in the bud. Castiel liked that Dean was paying attention to him and was generally very accommodating. These days, that was an increasingly rare character trait. Inevitably, he thought of Rambler, who was also always looking out for his best interests.

Heading to the parking lot, they chatted about the past few days, with Dean seeming particularly interested in his trip to Europe. Castiel told him about a few appointments and readings he had had, and watched with some excitement how attentively Dean listened to him and how he eyed him.

They finally came to a stop in front of a black Chevrolet. It was a beautiful car that Dean obviously cared for regularly and with much love, as much as the paint shone. No dirt was visible on the car, and there were no other signs of scratches, rust or the like. Castiel felt confirmed once again in his impression that Dean really had a special connection to cars, even independent of his job as a mechanic.

At that moment, he wished he knew more about cars, but to him, cars were mysterious; he didn’t know different models, let alone could philosophize about any specifics. Gabriel certainly could have given him a leg up here, but his brother wasn’t here.

"Hey, Cas?“ Dean’s voice interrupted his thoughts. His tone was very gentle, not at all teasing like it had been in the lobby. Castiel turned to the side, wincing minimally when he found himself inches from Dean’s body. He could count Dean’s freckles if he wanted to, and saw even more clearly now how much Dean’s eyes shone.

"Yes?“ Castiel asked, suddenly feeling shaky on his feet in the face of Dean’s intense scrutiny.

"You’re a good guy, ya know that?“ Dean looked at him, all serious and penetrating, and Castiel really couldn’t explain if this intensity he felt between them was merely due to his lack of sleep or if the air really tingled like that. Maybe it was this unusual situation, yes it had to be. Castiel didn’t know what to say back to Dean’s honest comment.

"I can only return the compliment,“ he replied and smiled. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Was he feeling sick? A few seconds later, he caught Castiel’s gaze again. He scratched the back of his head, stretched a little, and then sighed deeply. "Lemme store the luggage,“ Dean muttered, reaching for Castiel’s bags before he could react. He made a beeline for the trunk and stowed the suitcases deep inside.

"You are a true gentleman,“ Castiel said appreciatively, whereupon Dean looked at him over his shoulder. "I’m certain this special man that you’re so fond of appreciates your efforts.“

Dean coughed, jerked his head towards the trunk once more, and mumbled something Castiel didn’t understand. Then he popped up and faced Castiel again. "Next step. The apartment where the miracles happen.“

Castiel laughed. "I’m not sure whether that’s the case.“

"Hey, you saved me that day. And you have an awesome stereo that produces beautiful sounds. Plus, you write your stuff there, so that’s the entire truth. Don’t contradict me on this, I have made up my mind.“

"Okay,“ Castiel said and couldn’t stop laughing. Dean was really amusing, so he assumed that the day would be much fun.

In the car, Dean turned on music that immediately filled the entire car with full sounds. When Castiel asked what song they were listening to, Dean told him that the title was "Listen To The Music“.

Briefly, Dean explained that he had put together a special compilation for this road trip. Castiel quickly understood what Dean meant. Some songs stood out for their glorious melodies and unique arrangements, while others had lyrics that inevitably spoke to him.

When the first notes of the next song sounded, Castiel automatically bobbed up and down in his seat.

" _When I come home (When I come home), well I know I’m gonna be_  
_I’m gonna be the man who comes back home to you_ “

"Ya like this one?“ Dean asked on the second chorus, and Castiel clearly heard the laughter from his voice.

"Very much,“ Castiel admitted, whereupon Dean let out a warm hum. Another hum followed, but he said nothing more about it. Instead, they listened to the music in complete silence. It was a comfortable silence that had developed between them, a silence between close and deeply connected people.

"I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)“ by The Proclaimers had really always appealed to him. Dean was drumming his fingers on the dashboard, and Castiel enjoyed the fact that the other guy was also into music the way he often was.

Various rock songs like "Sultans Of Swing" by Dire Straits followed, in which Castiel found great pleasure. In between, he heard familiar blues sounds, including John Lee Hooker, Calvin Russell and John Hiatt, and Castiel was extremely pleased that Dean shared his taste.

When they were near his home, the song playing was entirely different, however. It was a tranquil song, soothing and sensual.

“ _Come away with me in the night_  
_Come away with me_  
_And I will write you a song_  
_Come away with me on a bus_  
_Come away where they can’t tempt us, with their lies_ “

Outside his front door, Castiel remembered that there was something else he had wanted to ask Dean. Something essential.

"Do I need luggage, a change of clothes?“  
Dean’s eyes widened. "Um. I s‘pose we could enlarge the road trip, yeah. I mean, normally I would’ve stayed overnight since it gives more time to actually enjoy everything. But, ya know, don’t feel forced to-“

"Okay,“ Castiel said and unbuckled his seat belt. "Give me 10 minutes.“ He paused in his movement. "You can come in, too, of course,“ Castiel added.

"Yeah. That’s great. But there’ll be many other occasions to visit you in your apartment in the future. Probably. Yeah.“ Dean coughed and fidgeted with his hands. "I’m gonna wait here. The car and the music keep me company for the time being.“ Dean winked and had that mischievous expression on his face again.

A few minutes later, Castiel had handled and packed everything and stepped back outside. Dean was apparently stretching his legs a bit, waiting for him next to the car. When he saw Castiel, his whole face lit up.

"I think we didn’t greet properly before, mm?“ Dean asked. When Castiel only frowned, Dean playfully punched him in the shoulder. "Oh, Cas. Don’t ever change.“

Then Dean pulled him into a hug. It was a different hug than usual. For one thing, it lasted longer, and for another, it was more physical. In fact, Dean stroked his back for a few seconds, letting his hand linger there longer than Castiel would have expected, until they finally broke away from each other again.

Back in the car, they quickly fell into light conversation. Castiel was eager to ask Dean about what exactly he had hinted at that time regarding the road trip and what had actually been the origin or reason for it. Why he had chosen that particular day for it.

A few times Castiel had asked him about it during the trip, each time Dean had assured him that he would let him in on the secret when the time came. Castiel was so excited.

After "Sweet Home Alabama“ by Lynyrd Skynyrd had animated them to a more or less harmonious duet, the song that followed completely threw him for a loop. It was "Ramble On“ by Led Zeppelin.

Of course, he connected a lot with this song, the melody, but especially the lyrics reminded him so much of his rambler and of what he had written in his interpretation of the lyrics. For a short moment he longed for him very much, but he didn’t want to spoil the mood by a strange emotional outburst. And so he said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I like your car, Dean. The characteristic sounds stick with me, and it’s really, really beautiful.“ During his words, Castiel glanced to the side.

At the same moment Dean also looked at him, almost seemed to be dumbstruck, and smirked. He raised his eyebrows, obviously amused. And happy?

"Ya think? That’s- Well, that’s awesome.“ Dean’s laughter lines came out even more clearly, and he whistled to the tune of "Ramble On“. Then he sang along softly.

" _Ramble on_  
_And now’s the time, the time is now_  
_To sing my song_  
_I’m goin‘ 'round the world, I got to find my **man**._“

Castiel was puzzled by the fact that Dean had exchanged the word "girl" for "man“, but did not comment further on this detail. Dean looked down the road, but Castiel couldn’t take his eyes off Dean.

Somehow, the sight of Dean behind the wheel was so natural, as if he belonged right there - and that fascinated him, a fact that puzzled him. Suddenly Castiel felt their pace quicken noticeably. Dean stepped on the gas harder, rushing. They flew across the streets.

Subconsciously, Castiel heard another song lulling him, but he couldn’t focus on it. What he did notice, though, was the hypnotizing tune and the intensity of the lyrics.

“ _I’ll be with you darling soon_  
_I’ll be with you when the stars start falling_  
_I’ve been waiting so long_  
_To be where I’m going_ “

The song ended and seamlessly transitioned into the next. Supertramp’s famous song "Give A Little Bit“ blared from the speakers.

Dean, meanwhile, turned right onto a dirt road. They followed the road for a while, and Castiel was so taken off guard by Dean’s sudden drive that he completely lost the ability to speak.

The pace slowed, they drove slower and slower until they finally came to a complete stop.

" _I’ll give a little bit_  
_I’ll give a little bit of my life for you_  
_So give a little bit_  
_Give a little bit of your time to me_  
_See the man with the lonely eyes_  
_Oh, take his hand, you’ll be surprised_ “

"I agree, by the way,“ Dean said, winking at Castiel. "I wouldn’t exchange Baby for any other car. She’s the best.“

Castiel was about to say something back, was about to ask Dean what they were doing here in this parking lot in the middle of nature, when his brain fully processed what he had just heard. What had Dean just called his car? _Baby_?

"This is a '67 Chevy Impala?“ Castiel asked, while his heart was beating up to his neck. That was a coincidence. A coincidence. A coincidence?

"Yeah, that’s damn right.“ Dean shrugged, looked at Castiel and nodded. Then he nodded again. And once more. And again. He nodded so many times that Castiel lost count.

His head was buzzing and he was as warm as if they were sitting in a car in the middle of summer, on which the blazing sun had been shining for several hours. Dean nodded again, this time slowly and without taking his eyes from his for even a millisecond.

It wasn’t possible. Where was the hidden camera?

And yet.

The way Dean was studying him now, with so much expression and hope and passion and affection, pierced marrow and bone. Suddenly, he felt even warmer than before, while at the same time shivering as if he were suffering from chills.

Castiel noticed that Dean’s eyes had become moist.

"That’s impossible,“ said Castiel.

"It’s really me, Angel,“ Dean whispered, and after those few words Castiel’s heart hammered more than it ever had before. His body was still shaking.

Every limb felt like someone was sending jolts of electricity through all his neural pathways by the second. Dean was his rambler. RambleOnIm67 sat inches away from him. He was with him, right here.

Oh.

Tears were running down Castiel’s cheeks, and quickly he just sobbed. He didn’t want to cry, not now, but he couldn’t stop.

"How? Why? When? You- I’ve-“ Castiel had never felt so unable to articulate himself. It had all been meant to be, everything that had happened between them. Naturally. It was so obvious. The way of talking - the rambling - the insights, the ability to stir him up so much. Dean. It had always been Dean.

He was beautiful.

"Hey,“ Dean whispered. "Hey. I know, I know. It’s overwhelming. I’ve only known for sure since your recent message about "Sun-Kissed".“  
"Oh,“ Castiel said, but even that one word was completely lost in his sobs.

"C’mon. Let’s breathe some fresh air, yeah?“

Dean opened the driver’s door and got out. As if in a trance, Castiel did the same and approached Dean, who looked at him with so much warmth that Castiel’s entire existence was turned completely upside down within those few seconds.

"Well. That wasn’t the plan,“ Dean said, who was still staring at him with so much adoration. "I didn’t wanna make you cry, sweetheart.“ Sweetheart. It was all true. It was not a dream.

Castiel was here, Dean was here. His beautiful rambler.

Only slowly did Castiel understand the absurdity of their situation. They had met in real life, found each other attractive, and quickly developed an inexplicable connection. Simultaneously, they had met on Geekatism and developed feelings for each other. Dean had turned Castiel down for AngelMuses, and Castiel had turned Dean down for RambleOnIm67. Therefore, they had turned each other down _for_ each other.

Dean didn’t have another love interest in his life, no significant other, because he, Castiel, was the man Dean had talked of so fondly in the past. This was absurd and wonderful all at once.

Castiel raised his eyes again and nodded. He walked a few steps until he stood directly in front of Dean. The other drew in a sharp breath, and at last Castiel understood why Dean had been so nervous all day. Dean was as overwhelmed as he was. Castiel looked at Dean, looked at him the same inexplicable and acute way he usually did, and yet saw so much more. He saw everything, all of his beauty.

Dean averted his eyes, grabbed his phone and studied the screen. "Hello, streaming services,“ Dean mumbled, and giggled a little. Castiel felt even more giddy now. "I’m gonna show you another song, Cas,“ he said. A few seconds later, the song started playing. As soon as the first notes played, Castiel recognized the work. He knew the song by heart.

It was one of the first romantic songs he had listened to over and over in boarding school. He had hidden from his bullies, had hidden from the outer world, had gotten lost in his dream of showing the world who he really was and wished for this special someone described in the song.

" _I’ve been searchin‘ a long time_  
_For someone exactly like you_  
_I’ve been travelin‘ all around the world_  
_Waitin‘ for you to come through_ "

Determined, Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand and stroked the back of it.

"Dean,“ he mouthed. "Dean.“

Dean’s breath fluttered audibly, and Castiel also breathed in and out frantically.

"Are you okay, Angel?“ It was so unfamiliar and yet so familiar to hear Dean say that pet name. It was spectacular. It was right.

"I am already processing all of this. One thing is for certain. This is the most peculiar and wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. I have never felt better.“ He laughed, and Dean smirked.

At that moment, out here in nature, in this remote parking lot, standing so close to Dean as if they were one, Castiel was convinced, he knew with his entire being that he had never felt more bliss in his life.

"Ya remember the night before I left to visit my brother? When we chatted so damn much?“

Naturally, Castiel remembered this conversation. He held it in particularly deep memory. Rambler had cheered him up with the story about the soldier, he had reminded him that no one had to dictate how he felt, that he himself knew what the truth was. And he had described to him, in many words and with an unparalleled intensity, how to kiss away the meanness and how he wanted to cherish- Oh.

"I remember,“ Castiel said with a raspy voice.

"Awesome.“

"I would like to know what you meant. I want you to show me.“

Dean laughed lustily and shook his head before becoming serious again. "Yeah,“ he murmured as he cupped his face with his hands. "Of course I show you.“

Dean released a hand from Castiel’s cheek and immediately Castiel missed that physical contact. Then Castiel felt Dean’s thumb on his forehead. Very gently, Dean stroked it, again and again, as if to internalize every single spot. His thumb moved on, stroking through his hairline, and Castiel smirked as Dean briefly tousled through his hair.

After a fraction of a second Dean’s thumb stroked along his cheeks, back up a bit. He stroked his nose, which normally should have been weird, but it wasn’t weird, it was indescribable. In this way Dean explored his entire face, leaving no single spot unnoticed. Finally, his thumb brushed his lips, and he felt butterflies in his stomach. Dean’s touch felt ethereal against his skin.

"Shit, Cas. You’re so amazing, so, so frigging wonderful. Look at you. Nobody’s like you,“ Dean murmured, and Castiel’s body trembled, this time with endorphins and bliss.

Again Dean cupped his face and looked deep into his eyes. Just as intense as he always did, just as penetrating as his every word was. Castiel never wanted to be anywhere but here, only here. With Dean.

Dean took a deep breath, and again Castiel heard the rasping sound of his breath.

"Fuck,“ Dean murmured, bending his head closer, ever closer to him. By now their torsos were pressed fully together, and Castiel could have sworn he sensed Dean’s heartbeat. Castiel moved closer to Dean as well, leaning his forehead against Dean’s.

He closed his eyes, listening to both of their breathing, which by now had formed a harmonious duet. He listened to the wind blowing around them. Subliminally, he smelled the forest floor, smelled earth, but most of all, he smelled Dean. All of Dean.

When Van Morrison sang, " _The best is yet to come_ “ Castiel felt this with every fiber.

Castiel breathed. Inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled. The way he had done his entire life, the way he had done for 33 years. Breathing was natural, it happened automatically, it was in his genes. He didn’t need to think about it. He just did.

Like every person on this planet. Everyone knew how to breathe. Castiel was not different from everybody else: He breathed because his body knew what to do.

One thing was different, though. Only now did he realize what it meant to breathe properly.

When he opened his eyes again after what seemed like an eternity, he immediately looked into Dean’s eyes. Into that gorgeous green that was out of this world.

"I’m not a believer, Cas,“ Dean breathed, another smile tugging at his lips. Castiel’s body tingled, especially his cheek, which Dean kept caressing with so much tenderness.

"But I believe in this magic right here. I believe in us. And you? You’re my personal miracle.“

And then Dean kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned/quoted:
> 
> "The Way To Your Heart" by Soulsister (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzyKYekdKBk)
> 
> "Listen To The Music" by The Doobie Brothers (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DkytJLoxGmQ)
> 
> "I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)“ by The Proclaimers (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbNlMtqrYS0)
> 
> "Sultans Of Swing" by Dire Straits (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fAQhSRLQnM)
> 
> "Come Away With Me" by Norah Jones (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lbjZPFBD6JU)
> 
> "Sweet Home Alabama“ by Lynyrd Skynyrd (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ye5BuYf8q4o)
> 
> "Ramble On" by Led Zeppelin (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LzGBQerkvWs)
> 
> "Sunshine Of Your Love" by Cream (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zt51rITH3EA)
> 
> "Give A Little Bit" by Supertramp (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9JOut9yh5g)
> 
> "Someone Like You" by Van Morrison (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnVnIKTWhNs)
> 
>   
> I’m @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. 
> 
> Over the course of the last 6 months that I’ve been writing this fic this story has grown on me (a lot). So I just wanted to thank you for your support. I hope you like the way things will develop from here. :) 
> 
> There are still several chapters left. :) And I promise this story has a happy ending!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


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